Passion Play
by stephaniew
Summary: Dean meets a female hunter during a case. She's smart, tough and seriously sexy. Sparks fly and things get hot in a hurry. A series of smokin' one-shots based on an OC I created for another story.
1. Charleston

Author's Note: In working on another story, _Feet of Clay_, I created a character named Sophia. She's a legacy hunter, like the boys, and she meets the Winchesters during the course of a case. Dean and Sophia just clicked for me and I've written them a whole bunch of scenes that may or may not make it into other stories. Call it a teaser for what they might get up to later in _Feet of Clay_... Also, none of what I write here would have made it to paper without the inspiration and support of MaliBear'sBuddy. Thanks sweetie!

Charleston

Sophia's cell phone rings beside her. Glancing at the caller id, a slow smile spreads across her face. "Hey, handsome," she answers, her voice playful.

"Babe, where the hell are you?" Dean's rough voice demands.

She chuckles softly. "Just passing Savannah. Why?"

He growls. "I'll meet you in Charleston."

"Charleston? What for?" She sighs heavily. "We don't have another job do we?"

"No job, just you," he murmurs. "I'll send you the address."

Her stomach flips as the phone goes dead. Dean's not much for talking about his feelings, too chick flick, he says, but moments like this tell her everything she wants to know. His voice was practically vibrating with it. He needs her, wants her, misses her.

Her eyes flash and she coaxes a little more speed from the Mustang.

~~~SPN~~~

She pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. And yes, it's actually a hotel this time. She'd been surprised when the phone had vibrated with a text pointing to this location; this was much nicer than their usual accommodations. She approaches the room number he'd sent her, slightly apprehensive, her stomach dancing. She's only been gone for two days, but it feels more like two months since she's seen him. She knocks twice and the door flies open almost immediately.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, eyes drinking in the other. He looks even more devastatingly handsome than usual somehow. Maybe just because she's missed him so much. She takes in his dark grey t-shirt, fitting in all the right places, ratty blue jeans, and bare feet. He's got a day's worth of stubble and it only adds to the sexy image he presents.

Then without warning, she's in his arms and the door is slamming shut behind her. His lips are on hers - hot and demanding - and her body wraps around his like a second skin. She feels his hands slide up and down her back before tangling in her hair and a tiny moan escapes. Eventually he breaks the kiss to press open mouth kisses along her jaw to her ear.

"No more splitting up to cover more jobs," he whispers in her ear, voice husky and vibrating with equal parts emotion and passion.

She purrs, pressing closer to him. "Did you miss me?" she teases, her own voice low and smoky with desire.

His answer is a rough growl as he backs toward the bed, pulling her with him. "Missed you, worried about you, thought about you every fucking minute of every fucking hour," he murmurs, taking the hem of her tank top and pulling it up and off, before hauling her back against his chest, hands exploring the newly bared skin.

"You did?" she asks quietly, leaning back to look at him. His desire darkened eyes meet hers and he nods once before he unhooks her bra, tossing it to the floor. He sits on the edge of the bed, pulling her between his legs, placing hot, damp kisses across her breasts and stomach.

As he reaches for the snap on her cutoffs, she leans down to press a kiss on the top of his head as she strokes the back of his neck. "I missed you, too," she breathes. "It's like a piece of me is missing when you're not there."

He stops tormenting her with kisses to rest his head against her belly, wrapping his arms around her waist before releasing a long, shuddering sigh. "Exactly," he agrees, giving her a squeeze, "and I don't like it. It feels...wrong." After simply holding her for a brief moment, he goes back to unzipping her cut-offs, his mouth following the line of her panties as he drags the shorts down.

Her legs feel wobbly beneath her as she steps out of them, the heat of his mouth sending waves of fire all over her body. His warm hands follow up and down the backs of her thighs and over her bottom, drawing her ever closer. Unable to take any more torment from that amazing mouth, she kneels between his knees, tugging at his t-shirt. "Why are you still wearing all these clothes?" she teases, leaning in to kiss him before removing the shirt and pushing him back on the bed.

They both hiss at the skin to skin contact as she slides over him. His hands are tangling in her hair again as he drags her mouth back to his, tongue clashing with hers, his jean-clad leg sliding over hers, holding her in place as he explores her mouth. Both are breathing heavily when Sophia breaks the kiss to slide down over his muscular chest, dragging her tongue over his salty skin. She shivers when she hears his groan as her tongue flicks over his pebbled nipple.

She only gets as far as his flat stomach before he grabs her arms, pulling her up and flipping her underneath him. "I was just getting to the good part," she complains with a wicked grin.

He smirks. "You'll get the good part soon enough, babe," he murmurs, rocking against her, catching her soft moan with his mouth. He rests his forehead on hers, eyes meeting. Sliding his hand down her side, he finds her thigh, pulling it up over his hip, the roughness of the jeans against her soft inner thigh making her gasp, arching against him. "I need you with me," he murmurs, caressing her thigh, her hip, her bottom.

She bites her lip, reaching up to brush his check. She nods, shifting restlessly beneath him.

"And I want you," he rasps, lust and heat and passion dripping from his voice. "I want you so much I can't breathe, can't think about anything but being inside you, feeling you surround me, feeling you shudder under me..." He turns his head, kissing her palm, the inside of her wrist. She sucks in a breath, completely lost in how he makes her feel. He's still half clothed and she already feels like she's about to implode.

He moves to kiss her throat, tongue flicking against the pulse beating wildly there. His hands move up, skimming her waist, the sides of her breasts, before taking her wrists and pinning them over her head. "What do you want, Sophia?" he asks, scraping her earlobe with his teeth.

She moans, squirming against him, running her foot over his calf. "Dean..." she gasps, "please..."

"Please what?" he teases, his hot breath skimming her over ear. His chuckle turns to a sharp inhale when he feels her teeth on his shoulder. "Easy, baby," he mutters, leaning more heavily into her, kissing her jaw. "Tell me what you want, Sophia..."

She struggles to put together a coherent thought, but all she can manage is a soft, breathless, "You, Dean, always you, only you. All of you...everywhere...please..."

She whimpers when he pulls away, reaching for him. He chuckles darkly. "I'll be right back, babe."

She watches with half-lidded eyes as he strips down and slides on protection, admiring his hard body, wanting it back on hers, pressing into her, making that connection that's theirs, and theirs alone. It's only a few seconds until he's back over her and she's pulling him into her, but it feels like an eternity.

They both groan in satisfaction at the union, stilling for a moment to savor the sensations. Sophia wraps a leg around his hip, pulling him deeper, sighing his name. "Yes," she breathes, catching his gaze and holding it for a moment before her eyes drift shut as he starts to move.

He rocks against her, steady and unrelenting, slowly spinning them up. His mouth is everywhere, kissing her face, her jaw, her throat. His fingers tangle with hers as he pins one hand by her head. Sophia hears his voice, rough with passion, whispering her name, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of her world.

With a harsh cry, she goes spiraling over the top, one hand clutching at the sheets, the other squeezing his fingers so tightly her knuckles whiten. Seconds later, he groans her name before collapsing on top of her.

Sophia strokes his hair softly, enjoying his comforting weight and warmth. Her ragged breathing gradually slows. "Maybe I should go away more often if that's the kind of welcome home I get," she murmurs, satisfaction tinging her voice.

The observation earns her a fierce growl as Dean rolls to his side, pulling her with him, unable to relinquish the smallest bit of contact with her. "Not a chance, sweetheart," he rumbles, kissing her temple. "I don't intend to let you out of my sight again any time soon." He snickers. "In fact, I don't intend to let you out of this bed anytime soon."

Sophia giggles and snuggles closer, not any more inclined than he to separate. "Good thing I like Charleston..."


	2. Feast

**A/N:** This one began with an image that just flashed in my head. You'll know when you get to it... ;) This one is a little bit of a tease to start, both for the reader and Dean, but I promise it's worth it! Thanks as always to MaliBearsBuddy for beta reading and never ending support. She likes this one a lot and I hope you will too!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything to do with Supernatural.

Feast

She's been in the kitchen half the day cooking, Dean barred from entering until she's done. They have some free time and she wants to do something special. For her, special means cooking. So she's fixed a number of their favorite dishes, set the table, lit candles. Perfect.

As the last of the meal is finishing the oven, she dashes upstairs to shower and dress. She decides to wear the yellow sundress he likes. She puts her hair in a messy bun to keep it off her neck, something else she knows he likes. A little light makeup and she's ready.

By the time she finally calls Dean for dinner, he's starving - both for food and her. It may be cheesy, but he doesn't like to be without her, even for just a day. He steps into the kitchen and takes it all in.

The table is done up with an actual tablecloth, as well as a centerpiece of fresh flowers. She's set up their place settings across from each other, complete with linen napkins and the good silverware. She's standing by the table, smiling a little shyly. She looks beautiful. The yellow sundress looks amazing against her pale skin and she's pulled her hair up into a bun, exposing the length of her neck.

He approaches her and pulls her into his arms. "It looks beautiful," he murmurs. "You look beautiful." He kisses her exposed neck and growls. "If I wasn't starving, I'd have you first."

She giggles and pushes him away, dodging his attempt to kiss her. "Nothing says you can't have me later," she teases. "But right now you need to sit."

~~~SPN~~~

"God, that was amazing!" he says, leaning back from the table with a sigh. He's put away a steak, loaded baked potato, green beans and a salad.

"I hope you saved room for dessert," she replies, getting up to clear away the dinner plates.

He leers at her, one eyebrow waggling suggestively. "I thought you were dessert..."

She snickers and kisses him on the cheek. "Nope, not this time. Crème brûlée."

He raises an eyebrow. "Crème what?"

She laughs as she retrieves the custards from the fridge. "Crème brûlée. It means burnt cream in French."

He gets up to stand behind her at the counter, wrapping his arms around her. "Mmmm, I like it when you speak French," he murmurs, kissing the back of her neck.

She snorts. "Uh huh, whatever." She reaches for the kitchen torch. "Now back up," she instructs. When he complies, she lights the torch with a whoosh.

"Woah! What the hell?"

"This is the burnt part, babe," she says, rolling her eyes. She waives the flame back and forth over the sugar covering the top of the custards until it bubbles and browns. "See?" she says, gesturing to the cups. "You melt the sugar over the top and it hardens into a crispy crust. It's fantastic."

"It's hot," he replies, sliding back up behind her. He runs his hands up and down her sides, just brushing the sides of her breasts. "You're hot."

She shivers lightly and turns to face him. "I told you, Dean," she murmurs, "me later."

When he leans down for a kiss, she ducks under his arms and scoots back to the table, carrying the desserts with her.

Growling in frustration, he follows her. "Tease," he mutters under his breath.

He flops into the chair, arms crossed as she sets up the desserts. She puts each ramekin in the center of a smaller plate. She then places a plate of fresh strawberries in the center of the table.

"Strawberries are really good with this," she says as she sits back down.

"Uh huh," he mumbles, still pouting over being denied a kiss. He hasn't kissed her since breakfast, which is ridiculous. Good God, he's completely addicted to her. He feels like a junkie jonesing for a fix.

Fiddling with his spoon, he watches as she leans over and plucks a strawberry from the plate.

"I hope they're ripe enough," she says. Her eyes meet his and he doesn't miss the wicked sparkle in them as she takes a bite of the strawberry.

Although to call it "taking a bite" hardly does it justice. She slowly wraps her lips around it and bites it in half. She half-closes her eyes with a soft moan. The red juice trickles down over her chin and drips onto the plate. He watches, mesmerized, as she licks the juice from her lips and sits back to chew slowly.

"Mmmm," she murmurs, opening her eyes. "Juicy and sweet."

He stares at her, mouth slightly open. Son of a bitch.

She uses the edge of the spoon to crack the sugar shell on the brûlée. Scooping some up on her spoon, she deliberately keeps her eyes on the dessert instead of him this time. She knows he's onto her, but she's not ready to stop teasing just yet.

She slides her tongue slowly over the bottom of the spoon, before taking it into her mouth. She pulls it out just as slowly, eyes falling shut as she does. "Oh yeah," she half-moans, "sooo good." She swallows the custard and looks over at him. He's still staring at her, but his eyes have darkened. She's definitely getting to him.

"Aren't you going to try it?" she asks sweetly, gesturing with her spoon, before taking another bite.

He obeys automatically, scooping up a spoonful of the custard. His head is whirling. Probably because all the blood has left it and traveled well south. His self-control is unraveling a little faster than usual and she's not helping. Her little breathy moans and the way she's licking that spoon are driving him nuts.

She licks the spoon again, slowly. "Good, isn't it?" she asks, as eyes wide and innocent as she can make them.

"Great," he replies, a little breathlessly.

"So glad you're enjoying it," she purrs. She leans over the table, well aware of the gap at the top of the sundress. She reaches for another strawberry, gasping when he grabs her wrist tightly.

"Enough," he growls, yanking her out of her chair and into his lap. His other hand slides around the back of her head, pulling her mouth down to his. The growl deepens as his tongue pushes into the warm heat of her mouth. She tastes like strawberries and cream. She tastes like heaven and he can't get enough.

He releases her wrist to slip his hand under the skirt of her dress. He strokes up her thigh, swallowing the soft moan she makes.

Now free, her hands glide under his t-shirt, tracing the muscles as they flex under her fingers. She hears another growl as she rakes her fingernails over his chest and the next thing she knows, he's pushing her off his lap.

He stands abruptly, driving her back against the table. Dragging his mouth from hers for just a moment, he sweeps an arm across the table, sending the dishes clattering to the floor. Ignoring her gasp, he hitches the skirt up around her waist and lifts her onto the now empty table. His mouth captures hers again, ravenous. His fingers find the ties on her shoulders and he yanks them free before pulling the top of the dress down.

He leans over her, his weight pushing her down onto the tabletop. His mouth scorches over her neck and down to her breast. She can't stop the breathless groan that escapes her when his hot, hot mouth closes over it. She arches into him, palms sliding on the tabletop in an attempt to find purchase.

His breath is heavy as he releases one breast and kisses his way to the other. His hands, rough and warm, skim over her thighs to her hips. She moans heavily as his fingers find her heated center. She arches her hips into his hand, wanting more.

Releasing her breast, he hooks a foot around the abandoned chair and pulls it closer. Sitting, he pulls her hips to the edge of the table. His hands slide under her bottom, lifting it so he can drag her panties down and off. He sucks in a breath as she parts her thighs, rolling her hips as she gasps his name pleadingly.

Adjusting her legs over his shoulders, he leans forward, slicking his tongue over her. She still tastes like heaven and he still can't get enough. He grabs her hips, holding her still as he devours her.

She bucks beneath his assault, unable to be still. A voice that sounds nothing like her own chants incoherent nonsense. The world focuses down to the burning of his mouth and tongue. To the waves of pleasure threatening to drown her.

As he swirls his tongue over her, he eases a finger inside, teasing a little more from her. He groans against her when he feels her body clamp down, hears the hoarse cry she makes as she arches off the table one last time.

They're still for a moment, both breathing hard. But his body is screaming for release and he can't wait. He stands and reaches for her hand, helping her sit up. Her eyes are still glazed with pleasure as she focuses on him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, her lips find his. She kisses him deeply, feeling his arms tighten around her. Then she pulls back, meeting his eyes. "More," she whispers.

He shudders and closes his eyes. She'll be the death of him for sure. He feels her reach for the fastening on his jeans, but he pushes her fingers away. This will be over before it's started if she touches him. He's wound up so tight he feels like he might explode.

He strips off his jeans and underwear in a flash and finds himself wrapped up in her again. Her hips rock into his and he hisses at the contact.

"Please, Dean," she sighs, "now..."

Hands tight on her hips, he slides into her with a deep groan, burying himself in her tight heat. "Jesus, baby," he grits from behind clenched teeth. He buries his head in her neck, sucking in deep breaths as he tries to take it slow. He doesn't want this to be over too soon, but god, she feels so good...

She lays back down on the table, pulling him with her, fingers digging into his shoulders. She unwraps her legs from his waist so she can rest her feet on the table. Using the leverage to lift her hips, she meets his thrusts, giving as much as she's taking.

"I can't wait...much longer..." he says, the words clipped. "Baby..."

Her fingernails rake down his back. "Yes," she croons, "yes..."

Hand on her thigh, he urges one of her legs back around him, changing the angle just enough. A moment later, she's flying over the edge, body rippling around his. With a harsh groan, he follows, surging into her.

Not wanting to crush her into the table and not trusting his legs to keep him standing, he slides off her and collapses into the chair. A moment later, she crawls off the table and curls into this lap. He strokes her hair, pressing kisses on the top of her head, while his other hand holds her close.

"Damn," she says finally and hears his chuckle rumble under her cheek.

He tilts her face to his, kissing her softly. "Damn is right." He looks at the mess on the kitchen floor. "Sorry about the dishes," he mumbles apologetically.

She giggles. "Do you have _any _idea how hot that was?" she murmurs, cheeks flushing. "Damn."

He raises an eyebrow. "Mmmm," he says, "my girl _does _have a wild streak."

She giggles again, smacking his chest lightly. "Only for you, babe, only for you."


	3. Can't Wait

A/N: What can I say about this one? The title gives it all away... :) Special thanks as always to my friend, fellow writer and beta reader, **MaliBearsBuddy**.

Can't Wait

Moonlight illuminates the room with a cool glow as they stumble through the door of the storage room. Dean's mouth is hot and hungry on Sophia's as he turns her and pushes her up against the door, his body heavy on hers. His hands slide up her thighs, pushing the snug skirt on her cocktail dress up. When he finds skin at the top of her thigh high stockings, he moans against her lips.

"God, it's a good thing I didn't know you had these things on before," he murmurs. "I'd've had you in here hours ago." His mouth drifts to her neck, finds all the spots that make her crazy, his tongue burning a path. His hands slip to her back, dragging her to him as his fingers find the zipper on her dress, pulling it down.

Sophia moans as he slips the straps on her dress down over her shoulders, following their path with his lips. "Dean..." she whimpers. She knows she should be putting a stop to this, but for the life her she can't remember why. She's been wanting this all night if she's going to be honest.

Dean pulls her away from the door, pushing her back toward one of the tables lining the walls. He's managed to drag her dress down to her waist and is greedily exploring the skin he's revealed.

"Dean, no, we can't," Sophia protests weakly, as Dean lifts her to the table. She moans softly as his teeth nip over her collarbone, and down over the swell of her breasts. "What if someone comes in?"

Dean growls against her skin as he reaches for the front clasp on her bra. "It'll be fine, everyone's gone," he soothes. "I need you...now..."

His hands slide under her skirt again, pushing it up over her hips. She can feel the cool surface of the table against her bare thighs and she shivers. The combination of the chilled table and Dean's hot mouth on her breast obliterate whatever it was she was objecting to a moment before.

Forgetting everything but the way he makes her feel, she reaches for the tie he's already loosened, dragging it way. Her fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, but they're made clumsy when his fingers slip inside her panties.

"Mmmm, baby, you're so wet," he growls, nimble fingers exploring and teasing, making her squirm under him.

She moans, her head dropping forward to rest on his shoulder as she tries to find the strength to finish the buttons on his shirt. "The way you were looking at me all night..." she gasps, undoing the last button and slipping her hands beneath his undershirt, fingernails trailing over his chest. "And every time you touched me..." Her voice trails off as her lips find his throat and jaw.

Dean's hands stop their delicious torment and she whimpers at the loss. His fingers slide into her hair and he drags her lips to his. As his tongue explores her mouth with delicious thoroughness, his hands slip out of her hair haul her hips against his. Groans from both of them as he grinds his hard arousal against her softness.

"Fuck," he murmurs harshly. "I need to be inside you..."

She reaches without hesitation for his belt buckle. He slides her panties off, tossing them carelessly to the floor. He takes a second to look at her as he does so and nearly loses the last bit of control he's been holding onto so desperately.

She's sitting on the edge of the table, flushed, lips swollen, hair tangled, breathing harsh. Her pretty black dress is pushed down around her waist, bra hanging open, exposing her breasts. The bottom of her dress is bunched around her hips and her panties are now on the floor, but she's still got on silky black thigh-high stockings and the sexiest looking heels he's ever seen. She looks like sex personified, like any red-blooded man's wet dream. And she's _his_.

"God, you're beautiful," he says huskily as he slips between her thighs, wrapping his arms around her. She flushes and ducks her head to his shoulder. "You are," he says, kissing her neck. "So beautiful." He shifts slightly, sliding deep inside her, completing them both. Too wound up to wait, he sweeps his hands over her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist and setting a blistering pace.

Sophia folds herself around him, enveloping him, surrounding him, accepting him. Her hands are under his shirt, sliding over his back. She arches against him, wanting to be closer still, meeting his thrusts, pulling him in. "Yes," she gasps, "oh, yes."

Knowing he's not going to last, Dean slips a hand between them, finding her center, pushing her closer. She shudders against him, crying out harshly as she reaches her climax. A few more thrusts and he's falling with her, groaning his pleasure into her neck.

For a few moments, the only sound to be heard is ragged breathing and the whisper of hands on soft skin. Dean kisses Sophia softly. "Wow," he says, caressing her cheek, "that was seriously hot, babe." He leers at her, waggling an eyebrow.

Sophia snickers softly and then freezes.

"Dean? Sophia?" Sam's voice echoes through the building.

"Son of bitch."

Dean scrambles to put himself back together as Sophia stands to drag her dress back down. "Everyone's gone, huh?" Sophia says. "It'll be fine." She rolls her eyes, struggling to get her bra back on and wiggling herself back into the dress. She turns to allow Dean to zip it up for her.

Dean flings the storeroom door open and steps out in the hallway, Sophia close behind, trying to smooth her hair. "Hey, Sammy, what's up?"

"Oh, there you are..." Sam's voice trails off as he takes in their appearance and he shakes his head, an amused grin crossing his face. "Really, guys? You couldn't wait til we got back to the motel?"

Dean smirks, while Sophia ducks her head, blushing furiously. "Dude," Dean says, "some things just can't wait."


	4. Piano

A/N: This one was inspired by a scene from Pretty Woman. Julie Roberts' character goes downstairs late one night at the hotel and finds Richard Gere's character playing the piano. He clears the room and perches her on top of the piano. We don't really get to see all the details of what happens next, but it's pretty clear. I always thought it was a seriously hot scene, particularly the way they would occasionally hit the piano keys. It was a great, discordant sound in an otherwise silent room. From a writing perspective, I also wanted to see if I could write a scene without any dialogue. It was kinda tough, especially since Dean really likes to talk when I write him, but I think it ended up making the scene that much more intense.

Thanks as always to my dear friend and beta, **Ma liBearsBuddy**. Please go check out the great stories she's posting!

Please enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or Sarah McLachlan's beautiful song. Only borrowing for your amusement.

Piano

Dean pushes open the door from the garage. He hears the sound of the piano from the living room and smiles. After washing the dirt and oil from his hands, he walks quietly into the next room. Leaning against the door frame, he watches her play.

She switches easily from something classical to something more jazzy to something kind of bluesy. He's entranced by her fingers as they stroke the keys, sometimes softly, sometimes with more energy. The look on her face tugs at something in him as well. Her eyes are half closed, her neck bent, something like a smile ghosting over her lips. She looks completely lost in the music she's creating, free and fully at ease.

She switches the tune again, this time to something he recognizes: Sarah McLachlan's Angel. The notes are haunting, slow, sad. He wants to stop her, but then he hears her voice, soft and low. He's never heard her sing before, at least not like this. Her voice isn't as high as the original version, so she's changed the key to accommodate her range. And it's beautiful.

"Spend all your time waiting

For that second chance

For the break that would make it okay

Always some reason to feel not good enough

And it's hard at the end of the day

I need some distraction oh beautiful release

Memories seep from my veins

Let me be empty, weightless and maybe

I'll find some peace tonight"

He knows she doesn't see him, doesn't know he's there, but it's like she's speaking right to him. He's struggled so long with those same things. His worth to the world, his self-image tied up in everyone else's perceptions. For a long time alcohol and the occasional fling with some willing young thing was the distraction. But they were never really enough to fill the spaces in his heart, the gaping wounds on his soul.

"In the arms of the angel

Fly away from here

From this dark, cold hotel room

And the endless that you fear

You are pulled from the wreckage

Of your silent reverie

You're in the arms of the angel

May you find some comfort here."

But she's here now. And she's filled him, completed him, healed him, in ways he doesn't really understand. Ways he can't even explain. It sounds seriously corny and way too chick flick, but she's his angel. In her arms, he's found the comfort and peace he never dreamed possible.

The sadness in her voice is killing him. It pierces some part of his heart he thought was gone. He again thinks to stop her, but remains still as she starts the next verse.

"So tired of the straight line

And everywhere you turn, there's vultures and thieves at your back

Storm keeps on twisting

You keep on building the lies

That you make up for all that you lack

It don't make no difference, escaping one last time

It's easier to believe in this sweet madness

Oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees"

A tear slides down his cheek, unbidden, as the words slice through him. Her voice catches on the last words of the verse as her fingers falter on the keys. He can see her struggling to keep back the tears. He finds he can't watch her any longer. A few quick strides across the room and he's leaning over her. He gently takes her hands from the keyboard and wraps both their arms around her, his cheek on the top of her head.

She gasps at first, startled from wherever the song had taken her, but she quickly relaxes against him. She wonders how long he's been standing there. Judging from the tears she feels dripping in her hair, long enough. She's not sure what possessed her to play that song today, but it always reminds her of him. He's been through so much. She knows he still suffers, knows about the dreams he still has. Some part of her responds instinctively to his pain, stretching out to ease it, to pull him from the darkness.

Long moments later, Dean presses a kiss to her head and turns her to face him. A glimpse at his tear streaked face has her kneeling on the piano bench. She tenderly wipes the tears away. She opens her mouth to speak, but he stops her with a quick shake of his head before he presses his lips to hers. The kiss is tender and loving, full of sadness, sweetness, longing.

The emotion flowing between them is heady and makes his knees weak. His tongue slides against hers, slow and easy. He knows he should find the words to tell her what he's feeling, but somehow trying to show her, making her feel what he feels with his touch, makes more sense. Words seem ridiculously inadequate at this point; nothing he could come up with would even begin to touch what's in his heart right now.

His hands roam to her bottom, pulling her closer. Her arms wrap around his neck, her fingers in his hair. She's surrounding him, enveloping him and it's not nearly enough. He shifts to kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids. He burns a path to her ear, tongue flicking against the lobe. Her moan as he breathes her name sends a bolt of heat straight down his spine.

His warm hands slide beneath her t-shirt, coaxing another moan from her. A soft laugh escapes at his intake of breath when he realizes she's not wearing a bra. She pulls his mouth back to hers, losing herself in his taste as his hands drift over her breasts. A thumb strumming across her tight nipple almost sends her toppling off the bench, but his strong arm around her waist holds her in place.

Their mouths separate reluctantly as he drags the shirt over her head. Their eyes catch and hold. The love and trust burning in hers almost brings him to his knees. She told him once he made her feel safe. It's clear in her eyes as she watches him now.

For a brief moment, he doubts himself, thinking there's no way he can be what she deserves. But she knows him so well now, she reads him instantly and reaches out to cup his cheek. When his eyes meet hers again, she shakes her head, her clear gaze reminding him she loves him, telling him he's exactly what she needs.

He leans into her, urging her off the bench. His hands find her hips and he lifts her onto the piano. Her legs hit the keys, making discordant tones. They melt into the silence and only serve to heighten the sweet tension between them.

Dean's mouth trails along her jaw, down her neck, his tongue leaving a scorching trail in its wake. As his mouth finds her breast, suckling hotly, Sophia leans back on the piano top, curving into him. Her moan echoes in the silence.

Making his way down her body, he worships every inch of skin. His mouth skims along her ribs, tongue swirling teasing circles. Then her flat belly, taking a moment tease her navel. Kissing. Sucking. Licking. He can't get enough. Can't ever get enough of her.

When he reaches the snap on her jean shorts, he pauses his torment to slowly undo the clasp and slide down the zipper. She lifts her hips, allowing him to draw the shorts and her thin panties down and off. Again his mouth tastes her, sliding over her hip, her thigh, her calf. Not an inch of her skin is spared his attention. By the time he presses a kiss to the sole of her foot, she's breathless and shuddering.

His name is a chant on her lips as he glides slowly back up her body, kissing her inner thighs before his tongue seeks out her core. Sophia arches toward him, her hands slipping on the slick surface of the piano. Her foot smashes the keys, the flat notes echoing, drowning out her cries of pleasure. Hands tight on her hips, Dean holds her in place as he devours her, pushing her higher. Wanting only to give her as much pleasure as she can stand and then more, he feels her beginning to come apart. Hears her keening moans. Feels her shuddering as the orgasm washes over her.

She collapses back on the piano, panting. She reaches for him and he pulls her into his arms. His hands move over her, soothing her heated flesh. He murmurs words of love and desire in her ear. She rests her head on his shoulder, arms slung loosely around his waist. When she can breathe again, she sits back, tugging pointedly at his t-shirt. Unable to take his eyes from hers, he reaches back and pulls the shirt over his head.

Sophia's mouth and hands immediately seek the slightly damp skin of his chest. He tastes salty and warm and completely Dean. She hums against him as she explores. Eager hands reach for the fastening of his jeans. The orgasm he's just given her has only taken the edge off her hunger for him and she's longing for more. A certain tinge of melancholy still hangs in the air between them and she wants their physical union to burn it away. Their connection is at its strongest when they make love and right now she needs that connection, needs him to know she's here, needs him to lose himself in her.

She fumbles with the snap and zipper on his jeans, fingers clumsy. Finally succeeding, she pushes them out of the way, freeing him to her eager hands. She strokes him gently, reveling in his smooth hardness as well as the moan he can't hold back. He grabs her hands, growling. A wicked grin slips across her face, vanishing when his mouth meets hers, hot and demanding. She pushes at his chest, urging him to sit back on the piano bench. She straddles him, rubbing against him, whispering his name.

Her mouth fused to his, she rocks into him, hands restless on his back. He swallows her moan as she slides over him, taking him fully within her. His hands cup her bottom, impelling her to move, rocking them together.

He feels whole when he's inside her. The way she accepts him so completely. They fit together perfectly, in so many ways. It's something he never expected to find and something he vows to never take for granted.

They move together, the tension spinning tighter and tighter. Sophia drops her head to his shoulder, arms tight around him as they rock closer and closer to the edge. He's whispering in her ear again; she hears her name, how much he loves her, how much he needs her, how good she feels. His voice is husky with desire and makes her shiver with need.

The dizzying tension building between them finally snaps. Sophia groans softly as she topples over the crest, surging into him. He feels her body clench around him and it sends him over the edge right behind her. She sags against him, breathing heavily. She feels his arms around her, holding her tight and she melts into him with a soft sigh.

They sit like that for a long moment, content to hold each other as they come back to earth. Eventually, Dean pushes her gently from his lap, urging her to stand. He follows, then swings her up in his arms. As he carries her up to their room, she notices a lightness in his eyes that wasn't there before and she smiles to herself. He leans his head down to brush her lips with his, murmuring a thank you full of meaning against them.

Sophia dips her head in a nod, tears pricking her eyes, but dissolving into laughter a moment later when he moves his lips to her ear to suggest she play the piano more often.


	5. Suit

A/N: I always like to see Dean in his FBI suit, so I figured Sophia would need one too...and Dean would be more than happy to ogle her! I've spent a lot of time writing these two, and I really like how they talk to each other, so the teasing here was great fun to write. They both like to be in control, but both of them realize there's something incredibly sexy about giving up control too. And as my lovely friend Sophia pointed out, there's also something incredibly sexy about leaving clothes on...

Extra super special thanks to my dearest **MaliBearsBuddy** for her endless support, reading, reviewing, beta-ing, and being great heaps of fun! Please also go read her stories and show her some love. She's an amazing author!

Reviews are very much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything, sorry.

Suit

"Stop fidgeting," he murmurs, sliding his hand over the small of her back.

"I hate wearing a suit." She smooths the skirt down for the tenth time, then tugs the jacket into place.

"Comes with the cover, sweetheart," he replies, pulling the police station door open. He shakes his head as he follows her through the door, unashamedly ogling the sway of her hips in the tight skirt.

As they wait at the front desk for the investigating detective to appear, he leans close, lips by her ear. "You look hot as sin in that skirt," he murmurs huskily. He smirks when he hears her breath catch. "And I can't wait to slide it up over your hips and..."

"Agents Blackmore and Glover?"

~~~SPN~~~

An hour later, she stalks out of the police station. He follows her, again appreciating the sexy swing of her tight ass in the even tighter skirt.

She throws herself in the car, angrily yanking the high heels off and tossing them in the back seat. "Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" she fumes, leaning her head against the seat back. "I mean, he practically asked if he could bend me over his desk!"

Dean snickers, reversing the car out of the lot. "I told you you look as hot as sin in that suit, babe." He flinches when she smacks his arm.

"And you!" she continues, mad as a wet cat. "What the hell were you thinking talking to me like that when we're supposed to be FBI agents!"

He laughs as he pulls at the knot of his tie. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he takes in her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. God, she's stunning when she's pissed... He swallows the words before he gets himself into any more trouble. "Aw, c'mon, babe. You turn me on. Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

She huffs a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "Right, sure. And don't think I don't know you were staring at my ass the whole time. Opening the door doesn't count as chivalry when you're doing it so you can ogle me."

He raises one hand in surrender, trying to contain his laughter. "Yeah, yeah, you caught me. I'll try to be more subtle next time."

"Humph," she growls, slouching in the seat, a pout forming on her lips. She flicks a suspicious glance at him. "Ok, so why aren't you pissed off? That jerk was totally coming on to me, right there in front of you."

He shrugs as they stop at a red light. "I know who you're going home with at the end of the day," he says casually. "And it ain't that douche bag local detective." He grins. "Besides, I gotta feel a little sorry for him."

She arches her eyebrow, skeptical.

"He may have wanted to bend you over that desk," he replies, a smirk forming, "but I actually get to do it."

That spurs a surprised laugh from her.

Then he catches a glimpse of the wicked gleam in her eye just as the light turns green. He's in trouble now.

"You think so, huh?" she murmurs, her voice now low and slow.

His attention is pulled from the road when he sees her foot go up on the dash. "What are you..." His question is cut off when he looks over and realizes she's hitched her skirt up and is rolling one thigh high stocking down her leg.

He swallows hard and tries to keep his eyes on the road. "Babe..." he mumbles. He's distracted again when her other foot hits the dash. This time he's got a full view of the length of her leg.

She flashes him a saucy smile as she slowly slides the other stocking off and drops it to the floor. "Yes, Dean?" she says, deliberately sweet and innocent.

Another red light. He's almost afraid to look at her this time. He closes his eyes when she takes his hand and he feels the soft skin of her inner thigh.

The sharp honk of a horn behind him jolts him back. Her soft snicker barely penetrates the fog of desire now hazing his brain.

"You should probably pay more attention to the road, babe," she drawls. Still holding his hand, she slides his palm up and down the inside of her thigh, purring a little as she does so. "You wouldn't want to cause an accident, would you?"

Before he can find the words to reply, he feels her pulling his hand further up her leg. When the outside of his hand feels the warm dampness of her thin panties, he snatches it away with a hiss. "Damn it, Sophia!"

Her husky laugh taunts him. "Aw, c'mon, babe," she mocks, tossing his earlier words back at him. "You turn me on. Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

"Son of a bitch," he mutters. He glances at her as the motel comes into view. "You are so gonna pay for that."

Another husky laugh sends a shiver down his spine. "I certainly hope so," she murmurs.

~~~SPN~~~

The car comes to a stop outside their room. Before she can gather her things, he's yanking her door open and pulling her out. The rough asphalt of the parking lot pricks her feet and she winces.

"Sorry," he mumbles, sweeping her up in his arms. He carries her to the door of their room in silence, jaw tight. Setting her gently down on the sidewalk, he unlocks the door and pulls her inside.

Their eyes meet briefly in the semi-darkness of the motel room.

She closes the door behind her, leaning back against it, eyes on his. He stares at her for a long moment. She shivers in anticipation of what the raw hunger in his gaze promises. She hadn't necessarily intended to wind him up quite so much, but it's a little late to worry about that now.

"Take off your jacket," he commands huskily, maintaining his distance.

She slowly undoes the buttons on the suit jacket and slides it off her shoulders. She tosses it to the side, gaze never leaving his face.

"Unbutton your shirt."

Again, she obeys. Her fingers tremble slightly as she undoes the small pearl buttons. Control is one thing she relishes, but sometimes giving it up can be so much more satisfying. Something about obeying his commands makes her knees weak. Makes heat flow lazily through her body.

She moves to shrug the blouse off her shoulders, but he shakes his head.

"Unhook your bra." His voice is a little unsteady now and the heat in his eyes burns at her.

She unhooks the front clasp on the lacy bra, freeing her breasts to his gaze. They rise and fall gently as her breathing quickens. The room feels smaller and almost unbearably warm. She can't hear anything but the sound of his voice and the rasp of their breaths. She's not sure how much more of this she can stand before she throws herself at him, demanding to be taken.

His rough voice sends another shiver down her spine. "Come here."

Hoping her seemingly boneless limbs will carry her, she steps forward. She stops a hair's breadth from him. She closes her eyes briefly, swaying a little as the heat radiating from him washes over her. Her eyes flicker open and focus on his mouth. Her tongue slides over her lips, anticipating his kiss. He has the most amazing mouth she's ever seen. And his kisses are her favorite drug.

Her mouth forms a moue of disappointment when, instead of kissing her, he strolls around behind her. She can feel his gaze raking up and down her body, but she doesn't move. Hunger makes her hold her breath. She wants to feel his hands on her so badly she can almost taste it.

Her breath releases in a whoosh as he loops an arm around her waist and drags her back to his hard body. She almost purrs as she molds herself against him, her head falling back on his shoulder. A soft moan escapes as his big, rough hands smooth over her belly.

She can't stop the hum of satisfaction she makes when his warm hand cups her breast, thumb gliding lazily over her taut nipple. He's driving her absolutely insane and he's barely touched her. And then she hears his voice again, this time right in her ear, and it's all she can do to remain standing.

"Do you like it when I touch you like that?" he murmurs. His hot breath on her ear makes her shudder.

Somehow knowing a response is expected, she swallows hard and whispers, "Yes."

She's rewarded by the feel of his mouth on her neck. Her head tips to the side, offering him whatever he wants to take. His tongue draws teasing circles over the sensitive skin under her ear and she whimpers. She reaches up, sliding her hand around his neck, fingers in his hair.

His other hand smooths down over her hip, fisting in her skirt, slowly hitching it up. Another soft moan from her as he strokes up and down the outside of her thigh and over her hip.

Hot breath on her ear again. "What else do you like, Sophia?"

"I...I like it when you talk to me," she replies breathlessly, arching into his wicked hands, wanting more.

His chuckle vibrates against her neck. "Do you now?"

She nods helplessly and tries to find her voice again as his roaming hand finds the lace of her panties and teases under it. "I like it when you tell me how I make you feel." A gasp as his fingers tease gently at her center. "Dean...," she moans, grabbing his wrist.

His teeth nip at her collarbone as he slides his hand back up over her belly. "Hmmm," he hums against her skin. "Maybe you should tell me how I make you feel instead."

"Please...," she whines, sliding against him, trying to get through the iron self control he seems to have today.

"Tell me," he demands, stilling his teasing hands.

She nearly growls in frustration. "Damn it, fine," she mumbles. "Just don't stop..." She sighs as he resumes his torment. She's so wound up, she's not entirely sure she'll be able to form a sentence, but she'll do anything to keep his hands and mouth on her body.

"Talk to me..." he whispers.

"I...um...You make me crazy," she says, her hands covering his as they roam over all the sensitive spots on her skin. They're both still dressed and she feels like she's going to come apart any second.

"More." His teeth glide over her ear lobe.

"You...make me hot...wild...out of control...," she gasps, "and...wet." As she says the last word, she slides his hand between her legs, holding it against her heat. His answering hiss makes her smile. "Mmmm, and you make me feel..." She pauses, her brain scrambling as he rubs between her thighs. "God...you make me feel...sexy...beautiful..."

He sucks on the pulse point on her neck, hand still teasing. "You _are_ beautiful and sexy," he whispers. "So sexy..." His hands reach behind her and she can hear the sound of the zipper on her skirt rasping down. Seconds later, her skirt hits the floor and she kicks it aside. She feels wicked standing there in panties, her shirt and bra hanging open, while he remains fully clothed.

His hands are everywhere now, teasing, tempting, tormenting. She wants to touch him, feel him writhe beneath her hands as she does his, but she remains where she is. Drowning in the sensations he's pulling from her.

"Please..." she whimpers, moving restlessly against him.

"Please what?"

She moans softly. "Please...I want you to kiss me."

Immediately he turns her in his arms. His lips brush softly over hers.

She growls, pressing closer. Her lips part beneath his, her tongue slipping over his lower lip, wanting more. Her fingers move to make quick work of his tie and dress shirt, tossing both to the floor, along with her own shirt and bra. She drags the undershirt over his head and molds herself to him, purring as their heated skin finally comes into contact.

Her arms slide around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he finally captures her mouth in a heated kiss. They stumble back toward the bed, mouths fused, hands busy.

Sprawled across the bed, she arches against him as he kisses down over her neck to her breasts. She moans breathlessly as his hot mouth closes around her breast, tongue flicking over her already over-sensitive nipple. Her leg wraps around his trying to get closer. "Mmmm, too many clothes," she mumbles.

He drags his mouth to her other breast, tongue leaving a trail of fire on the skin in between. "Busy," he replies, before closing his mouth over her breast, sucking gently, wringing another moan from her.

She half laughs, half gasps. Then his mouth is on the move again, sliding down over her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel, before moving down.

He teases her through the thin material of her panties with his tongue and fingers until she's writhing beneath him. "Dean..." she moans, pushing her hips up to his teasing mouth, "stop teasing..."

And then the heat of his body is gone, leaving her shivering and whimpering. Her eyes snap open, looking for him.

"You said I had on too many clothes," he says, stripping off his remaining clothes quickly. He returns to settle himself over her with a sigh.

She pushes at him, rolling him onto his back. "My turn," she murmurs, pressing soft kisses along his bare chest. He tastes warm and slightly salty. His skin is so smooth, it feels incredible under her lips. "I love your body," she whispers, slipping down over his stomach. The taut muscles ripple in response to her tongue. She takes her time, kissing, nipping, lapping. She feels his fingers tangle in her hair and hears his breathing accelerate.

Continuing her exploration, her lips slide along his smooth hardness, drawing a harsh groan from him. He feels like silk. Her tongue repeats the journey, teasing up and down. A rough curse tells her she's making him just as out of control as she feels.

A few seconds later, he's reaching for her hands and pulling her up over him. "Enough," he growls against her mouth, before kissing her deeply. His hands slide under the waistband of her panties, cupping her bottom. She responds by rolling her hips against his, earning another rough growl.

He rolls her to her back, stripping her panties off and tossing them aside. His fingers find her center, stroking her. "I think that's enough foreplay," he murmurs in her ear, his tongue finding her lobe and echoing the circles his fingers are making. "Don't you?"

Her hips raise to his hand as she clutches at his shoulders. "Oh hell yeah," she breathes. "Ahhh, Dean...please...I want..." She completely loses her train of thought as his mouth finds hers and their tongues duel.

"What, baby?" he says huskily, "what do you want?" His mouth moves over her throat, nipping lightly.

"Ohhh," she moans, "I want...ahhh...I want you inside me...now...please..."

"Yes," he moans against her shoulder, shifting over her. His hands find her hips, lifting them slightly as he surges into her. "God, yes."

Instantly wrapping her legs around him, she raises her hips to meet his thrusts, hands roaming across his back. She can barely breathe and all coherent thought flees in the waves of pleasure washing over her. A voice she barely recognizes as her own chants "yes, yes, yes" as they move together, spiraling higher and more out of control with each motion.

She feels his hot breath against her ear, making her shiver. Then she hears his voice, dark and sexy as hell, urging her on. God but his voice makes her hot.

"Ahh, so close," she hums. Her foot rubs against his calf. Her fingers dance over his spine. "Babe..."

He shifts slightly, barely altering his angle, but it hits just the right spot and she's shattering. Her harsh cry is lost in his shoulder.

His hands tighten on her hips and she arches into him. "Yes," she whispers, "now."

She feels him shudder against her as he moans her name. He collapses on top of her, exhaling harshly.

She holds him as their breathing eases. Her hands caress his arms, his back, his neck. She should feel crushed by his weight. Suffocated. But she never does. To the contrary, she feels warm and protected. Surrounded. She reaches to kiss his cheek.

With a heavy sigh, he rolls off her, but draws her with him, keeping her near. He never moves very far away, always keeping her cuddled close. His hand finds hers and tangles their fingers together. He brings their now linked hands to his mouth, kissing her fingers.

She whispers a sigh, melting against him. His free hand smooths across her back and she purrs.

"Hey," he says, nudging her gently.

She raises her head to meet his gaze. She melts a little more at the look he's giving her. "Yeah, babe?"

He brushes her cheek with the back of his hand. "I love you," he murmurs, voice warm and low and a little rough. "More than I could ever tell you. More than I could ever show you."

She drops a kiss on his chest, smiling softly. "Mmm, just promise me one thing."

He nods, eyes questioning.

"You won't ever stop trying."


	6. Just Thinking

A/N: No clue where the idea for this one came from! But seriously, if you were sitting across the table from Dean Winchester, wouldn't you be thinking the same things? ;)

My perpetual and eternal thanks to **MaliBearsBuddy** for her support, encouragement and excellent beta skills. She makes me a better writer and a better person! You should be reading her Dean/Jo one-shots if you aren't already!

Reviews are much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Honestly.

Just Thinking

Dean looks up from his breakfast, feeling Sophia's gaze on him. The look in her eye sends a shimmer of heat right through him: she's looking at him like she's about to take the spoon she's eating her cereal with and devour him instead. He raises an eyebrow at her. "What?"

A sultry smile curves her lips and that shimmer of heat he's feeling kicks up another notch. "Nothing," she says, "just thinking."

He smirks. "Just thinking, huh? Thinking about what?"

She licks the remaining milk from her spoon, a strange glint in her eyes. He suppresses the urge to shiver.

Her voice takes on a husky tone that shoots straight to the base of his spine. "You."

He carefully sets down his fork and turns to watch her. "Thinking about me," he says thoughtfully. "Anything in particular?" He swallows hard as he watches her eyes darken.

The spoon clatters to the table and she stands. His gaze drifts down over her body, the tank top and shorts that looked demure when she went to bed last night now taking on a whole new character as she stretches, pulling the top tight across her breasts, causing his mouth to dry.

Sophia settles herself on his lap, straddling him and the chair. "Mmmmm, yeah," she purrs, "I'm thinking about your amazing mouth." Her thumb traces over his bottom lip, eyes on his. "I'm thinking of all the things you can do with it...things that give me soooo much pleasure."

Dean finds himself unable to make a coherent response to that as all the blood in his brain rushes south.

She shifts against him, moving her attention to his hands, hanging slack at his sides. She pulls them up, placing one at the top of her thigh, under the edge of her sleep shorts. The other she takes between her own and kisses the tip of each finger. "And I'm thinking about your hands. The way they touch me, how strong they are, how much they make me feel..." She kisses his palm, her tongue flicking out to draw tiny circles on his skin. He shivers and his other hand tightens on her thigh.

Dean takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. All he really wants to do is snatch her up and drag her to bed, but this side of her is so unexpected and such a turn on, he wants to let her run with it. "I see," he manages. "Anything else?"

Carefully placing his hand on her hip, Sophia leans forward to brush her lips against his as she slides her hands under his shirt. "Oh yeah," she whispers on his lips, "I'm also thinking about your chest, and those incredible abs of yours." As she speaks, her hands are roving over the same areas, leaving scorching trails on his skin and quickening his breathing.

Sliding her arms around his waist, her hands move up his back. The change presses her closer to him, her breasts tight against him, her hips rocking forward over his. He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to think about baseball. That idea is blown all to hell when her lips brush his ear as she continues her torment.

"And now I'm thinking about your back and those shoulders." She hums, her tongue tracing the line of his earlobe. "They're so broad, and well muscled." She rakes her fingernails down his spine and Dean nearly comes off the chair. Her husky laugh in his ear only compounds the sensation. "I'm thinking about how your back looked in the mirror over the bed in that cheesy motel. How the muscles rippled every time you moved inside me, how my fingers slid over your spine."

He feels her shiver. At least he's not the only one turned on so much he can't see straight. He slips his hands all the way under her shorts and over her bottom, nearly passing out when he realizes she's not wearing any panties under them. "Jesus, Sophia," he mumbles, his hands kneading her bare skin. He buries his face in her neck, breathing in her warm scent, something citrus. His lips find the pulse on her throat, feels it beating wildly, circles his tongue over it. Her soft moan in his ear makes him shudder.

Sophia straightens, sliding her arms out from under his shirt and Dean nearly whimpers at the loss. That feeling is vaporized a heartbeat later when she pulls her tank top over her head and her breasts are exposed to him. He leans forward and swirls his tongue around her nipple. She sucks in a harsh breath and tangles her fingers in his hair, arching into his hot mouth.

After thoroughly exploring one breast, he moves to the other, giving it equal attention. His hands slide over the bare skin of her back, enjoying it's softness. He drags his mouth away from her breast, his breathing heavy. "What are you thinking about now?" he asks, meeting her eyes with a wicked grin.

"Deannnnnn," she whines, squirming against him. Her hands are still tangled in his hair, so she tilts his head so she can find his lips for a scorching kiss. "I'm thinking about all the things we still haven't done yet." She rocks forward, her hips rolling against his arousal, forcing a harsh groan from him. "I'm thinking about..." She can't quite complete the thought when his fingers slide under the waistband of her shorts to tease her.

"You were saying," he says against lips as he leans in for another kiss, his teasing hands still at work. She moans softly.

She meets his gaze, her eyes nearly black with desire. She leans into him and whispers, "I'm thinking about how good it's going to feel when I slide down over you, right here in this chair."

He stops breathing for just a second. Before he can catch his breath, she's dragging his t-shirt up over his head and planting hot, wet kisses all over his chest. He drops his head back, closing his eyes, burning up as she kisses her way back to his mouth. He tangles his fingers in her hair and captures that hot mouth with his own.

"Sophia," he says, placing little kisses on her face, "I want you, now..."

"Are you sure?" she asks, voice slow. "You don't want to play anymore?" She grinds her hips into his again, wicked smile on her lips.

"Very sure," he groans, stilling her hips. "And you're gonna miss out on the best part if you don't stop that."

She snickers and slides off his lap. He finds it difficult to keep himself upright in the chair, the heat they've been generating making him feel nearly boneless.

Her thumbs hook in the waistband of the shorts and she eyes him teasingly. "Still sure?" she asks with a wink.

He growls and makes a grab for her, which she dodges easily. She turns, slowly sliding the shorts down, bending over to step out of them and toss them out of the way, giving him a nice view in the process.

She moves back over him, reaching for the fastening on his jeans. He's about to lose his mind, looking at her standing in front of him, completely naked, skin flushed pink, lips red and swollen, hair tangled around her face. He grits his teeth as she frees him from his jeans, pushing them out of the way.

Their eyes meet and catch as she settles over him, both of them sighing softly. One of his hands finds the back of her head, bringing her in for a series of burning kisses. The other finds the soft skin of her thigh, urging her to move.

Sophia sets a slow, languid pace to start, rocking against him. Hands stroke heated skin, mouthes fuse, tongues tease, breathing becomes labored.

Dean's strong hands set a faster pace. Sophia's head drops back, her eyes close. Dean can hear the breathy pants that mean she's getting close and he struggles to hold back. He presses kisses along her collarbone as he murmurs her name. As his teeth nip along her throat, he feels her shudder, her body clenching around him. He moans against her skin, holding her tightly as he succumbs to her heat.

Sophia collapses onto his chest, burying her face in his neck as her breathing returns to normal. Dean strokes up and down her back, soothing and warm, as he places random kisses on the top of her head.

After a moment, she sits up, taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly. "Amazing," she says with a little sigh.

He grins, turning to kiss her palm. His eyes glint and his smile turns mischievous. "So, was that pretty close to what you were thinking?"

She laughs. Kissing him again, she whispers, "That was exactly what I was thinking..."


	7. Fight

A/N: My beta (the lovely **MaliBearsBuddy**) were discussing additional ideas for this series, and the idea of a fight that turns into ripping each other's clothes off came up. I ran with the idea as I'm afraid my OC and Dean do an awful lot of fighting...and making up. I think it turned out pretty hot...let me know what *you* think!

Thanks, of course, to the aforementioned **MaliBearsBuddy** for her amazing support, beta skills and love. I appreciate her more every day. If you're looking for great writing with great characters (and the some seriously smokin' hot smut), go check her out!

Also, special thanks to **Difficult-notImpossible** for her support and suggestions! There might be a series similar to this one in the works for Sam based on her requests!

Reviews are greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: Only playing, not owning, promise!

Fight

"You're being completely fucking unreasonable and I'm not talking about this anymore," she shouts. She turns away and stalks down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Don't walk away from me, Sophia," Dean growls, following her. Grabbing her arm, he spins her to back to face him.

Sophia tries to wrench away from him, but he holds fast. "Let me go," she hisses, stepping toe to toe with him, her dark eyes flashing.

"Then stop running," he retorts. He pulls her even closer, the heat between them flaring wildly. He looks down at her, challenge clear on his face.

She gapes at him. "That's not my gig, babe, it's yours," she sniffs, voice dripping with sarcasm.. Damn it, how did they get so close? And why couldn't she keep her eyes off his mouth?

He flinches, but doesn't release his hold on her. "You learned from the best then," he snarls. "Doesn't change anything though." What the hell happened to whatever they were fighting about? He can't remember. All he can think of now is kissing that saucy mouth of hers.

She snorts derisively, yet somehow finds herself up on tiptoe, pressed against him. "Fuck you," she purrs haughtily.

"Thanks for the invitation," he snaps, crashing his lips onto hers as his free hand tangles in her hair to hold her in place. His tongue meets little resistance as it slips past her lips only to find she isn't giving up that easily.

Their tongues clash heatedly as each battles for dominance. He releases his grip on her arm to wrap his own around her and pull her roughly against him, swallowing the hungry sound she makes in response.

She slides her hands up over his chest and around his neck. Her leg slips around his, straining to get closer, as her hips roll against his.

He drags his mouth from hers with a groan, nipping across her jaw and down her neck. The movement takes her off balance and sends her stumbling backward into the wall. Dean takes full advantage. Trapping her with the weight of his body, he reaches to pull her tank top up, humming in satisfaction when her breasts are bared to his avid gaze. He'd forgotten she was still wearing her pajamas.

He pulls her arms from around his neck and pushes them against the wall above her head. Holding her in place, he slides down over her body and closes his mouth over her breast, sucking hotly. She arches toward him with a breathy moan as his tongue flicks teasingly over her budded nipple.

After a thorough exploration of both breasts that has her writhing beneath his mouth, he kisses his way back up her neck to her ear. He presses his leg between her thighs, parting them easily. "Still ready to run?" he murmurs roughly as his tongue traces the shell of her ear.

Her traitorous body betrays her completely as she rubs against his leg in a vain attempt to ease the ache between her thighs. "Damn you," she whispers, nipping his earlobe, smirking a little at the hiss he makes in response. She trails her tongue down the warm skin of his neck. "You know I can't..."

Releasing her wrists, he slips his hands under the elastic of her sleep shorts to cup her bottom, grinding her against him. "But do you want to?" he growls against her mouth, tongue teasing over her lips.

Her fingers rake over his shoulders and down his back. The soft feel of the cotton under them and rubbing against her bare breasts is a maddening distraction. But while she may be nearly delirious with desire and anger, she's not giving him his answer. Not yet.

"Shut up and take me, Winchester," she says sharply as she sucks his lower lip into her mouth.

He responds with a half growl, half moan before pulling his mouth from hers and kissing her neck. "This isn't over," he mumbles against her skin as he moves to kneel in front of her.

"God I hope not," she breathes, her eyes fluttering half closed as she looks down at him.

He shakes his head and reaches for her sleep shorts. Slowly, oh so slowly, he pulls them and her panties down over her legs. He holds her steady as she kicks them away and then kisses his way back up over her. His tongue draws teasing circles on her thighs, her hip, her belly. The sounds she makes as he teases her are intoxicating and wind him ever tighter.

When he's facing her again, she moves to undo his jeans. As she frees him to her eager hands, she hears his harsh groan. She strokes him with light fingers and the sound he makes ratchets up the heat pooling between her thighs to an almost unbearable level.

Roughly shoving his jeans out of the way, he hitches her legs around his waist and buries himself in her. "Oh God," he whispers hoarsely. She's tight and wet around him and it's all he can do to keep his knees from buckling.

Her head falls back against the wall as her hands tighten on his shoulders, the cotton of his t-shirt crinkling under her grasp.. "Dean..." she moans.

He starts to move, setting a brutal pace. He's completely lost in her. Lost in the feel of her around him. The last tatters of his control burn away in the inferno blasting between them. Her mews and gasps urge him on as he buries his face in her neck.

It's not long before she begins to tighten around him and she starts to chant "yes, yes, yes" as he rocks into her. Her climax washes over her in one overwhelming wave. She moans his name, arching against him.

Unable to resist her body pulsing around his, he thrusts one more time as his own orgasm consumes him and he gasps at its intensity. His knees do give out this time, and he sinks to the floor, holding her in his lap.

The only sound for several moments is their harsh breathing.

Leaning back, Sophia takes his face in her hands and kisses him softly. "You know I don't want to be anywhere but here with you," she whispers, her gaze locking with his.

"I don't like it when you walk away," he confesses and the naked vulnerability on his face makes her heart clench.

She strokes his cheekbone with her thumb. "I won't ever go far," she promises. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily."

A smile ghosts across his lips, lightening the serious mood.

"What do you say we go back to bed and start this day over again?" she asks, a slight gleam in her eye.

He snickers and stands, pulling her with him. "What do you say we go back to bed and stay there?"


	8. Front Seat

A/N: Sorry for the longer than normal delay in posting to this series! The muse apparently decided to take a hiatus, but returned briefly to inspire this little bit of naughtiness. My beta and I have determined that Cocky!Dean is seriously sexy, and he definitely makes an appearance here. I know the Impala thing is a little bit cliché, but it's cliché because we love it so much! Switching it up to the front seat makes it different right? ;)

Reviews are much appreciated! Especially if you like it... ;)

Always extra special love and thanks to my brilliant friend, beta and partner in crime, **Mali Bear's Buddy**. She's cooking up a seriously awesome Dean/Jo epic called Drag Her from Heaven/Drag Him from Hell. You should go read it. Like now...

Disclaimer: Sooooo wish I owned something, but I don't...

Front Seat

"I swear to God, if I have to spend one more freakin' minute in this freakin' room, I'm gonna lose my mind!"

Sophia stomps across the hideous army green carpet and throws the file she's reviewing on the equally hideous lime green bed.

Dean and Sam share a look before turning their attention to the woman scowling in the middle of the room.

"Um, you ok, babe?" Dean asks cautiously.

"No, Dean, I'm not ok. We've been stuck in this place for days, we don't have any decent leads and I've been staring at these stupid police reports so long my eyes are crossed." As she speaks, she moves closer and closer, until she's practically on top of him. Her face is flushed and her eyes flash dangerously.

Dean exchanges another look with Sam. Sam shrugs and nods.

Dean stands and digs out his car keys. Handing them to Sophia, he says, "Ok, let's go for a drive then."

A frown creases her face for just a moment as she considers his offer. She then snatches the keys from him and turns for the door without another word.

Dean follows her, a wicked smirk crossing his face. He's pretty sure he knows what's bothering her and it'll be his pleasure to help her resolve it.

~~~SPN~~~

He barely gets the car door shut before she's reversing out of the parking space and screaming across the parking lot. He reaches for the dash as she turns out onto the main street, tires squealing.

They drive in silence for some time before Dean reaches over to gently touch her leg, flinching when she nearly comes off the seat.

"Whoa, easy there, babe," he murmurs, stroking her thigh slowly.

The glare she casts him would've sent a lesser man screaming for the hills.

The scenery grows considerably more rural and other traffic much thinner as she takes them out of town. As the car slows down slightly from rocket speed and the tension on her face eases somewhat, Dean speaks again.

"So are you gonna tell me what this is all about or should I tell you?"

Another withering glare. "I told you before. I was tired of being stuck in that room."

"Uh huh," he replies, a slight undertone of sarcasm lacing his voice.

She frowns. "Uh huh? What the hell does that mean?" she says.

He grins at her. "That's not the whole story."

"Oh, and you think you know what the rest of the story is, do you?" she says mockingly. Her fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel and he can tell she's holding her breath.

His grin widens. "I do" is all he says.

She stews on that for a few minutes before finally taking the bait. "So? What is it you think you know?" she huffs.

He makes her wait for it, watching her from behind his sunglasses. "Well," he says finally, "we haven't had sex in three days and I think it's making you cranky."

He watches her tense as she takes that in. It was true. They'd been so involved with this case, they hadn't had time for anything, let alone sex. They'd been sleeping in shifts, reading, tracking down leads, and consulting with Bobby nearly non-stop.

She turns her gaze back out the front window. "I'm not cranky," she says, "and it's not like I haven't gone for more than three days without sex before."

"Not since you met me, you haven't," he replies with a smirk. He slips his hand down over her inner thigh. "Just admit it, you can't get enough of me and it's making you cranky."

"Oh, fuck you," she hisses, swatting his hand away.

He snickers and gestures broadly at the scenery around them. "Isn't that what you brought me all the way out here in the middle of nowhere for?"

She growls and nearly sends him spilling from the seat when she slams on the brakes and turns down an apparently deserted country road. Before he can fully right himself, she's brought them to a stop behind a stand of trees.

Putting the car in park and turning off the engine, she sits and stares at the steering wheel. Her breath is coming much faster than she'd like as she struggles to shrug off the truth of his words.

Now worrying he's pushed her too far with his teasing, Dean gentles his voice. "It's ok, babe," he murmurs softly. "I've missed it too. I hate going so long without you." He reaches out to stroke the hair off her face.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to relax. After a moment, she uncurls her fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel. Turning, she slides across the seat and into Dean's lap.

Her breathing speeds up again as she feels his hands on her, his arms wrapping around her. He's right, it has been far too long.

He tips her face up to his. He raises a questioning eyebrow and she replies with a slow smile. A low growl escapes him as his mouth fuses with hers.

He kisses her hungrily and she responds with equal passion. Tongues dance and slide together as hands search for soft skin.

Dean coaxes her t-shirt up and off, tossing it into the backseat. His fingers slide over her back, looking for her bra clasp only to groan softly when he realizes the clasp is in front. He frees her breasts to his waiting hands and they both sigh.

Squirming against him, she finds his mouth again, sucking his lower lip between hers. Her hands slip under the hem of his henley, smoothing over his skin. She tugs at the shirt with a little whimper, wanting to feel his skin on hers.

Reaching one hand behind his head, he drags the shirt off and it joins hers in the backseat. His hands on her hips urge her astride him and she responds eagerly, rolling against his hardness with a soft moan.

Hands sliding over the warm skin of her back, he arches her toward him as he places wet, open-mouth kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. His mouth closes over her breast, tongue flicking the tight nipple. He sucks hotly at each breast in turn, wringing breathless whimpers from her.

Dragging his mouth away from her soft skin, he looks up at her. And the sight almost shatters his already tenuous self-control.

Her head is thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed. Her skin is flushed pink and she's breathing heavily. Her lips are red and slightly swollen from his kisses. She looks completely lost in pleasure.

The loss of his mouth on her skin makes her shiver slightly and she opens her eyes. Looking down at him, she almost loses herself in the dark heat of his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, his hands move to the snap on her cutoff shorts. It takes some wiggling and a little breathless laughter, but they finally get her shorts and panties off. They join the rest of her clothes in the back.

As she settles back in his lap, they both reach for the button on his jeans. She bites her lip and shoos his hands away. Gently, she undoes the button and slides down the zipper. Her fingers brushing over his length has his fingers tightening on her hips.

She gives him a naughty smile and continues to take her time as she frees him from the denim.

He hisses and grabs her wrists as she strokes him. "Oh, no, you don't," he growls, forcing her hands up and kissing the insides of her wrists. "This is not gonna end like that."

Her naughty smile gives way to a gasp of pleasure as he moves to pull her onto him. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as she settles down over him slowly, taking him in.

His eyes slam shut as he feels her close around him. So hot. So tight. "So good," he moans, as one hand slides over her thigh to her bottom, drawing her closer. His other hand tangles in her hair as he pulls her mouth down to his, devouring it eagerly.

Unable to sit still, she rocks languidly against him, rolling her hips as she does. The small movement is all the cramped quarters will allow, but it's absolutely torturous.

"Ahhh yes," she purrs as he shifts lower in the seat, allowing her to take him more deeply.

He hums her name, pulling her closer, urging to move faster. His mouth is everywhere. Her neck, beneath her ear, down over her collarbone. He whispers in her ear, murmuring about how beautiful she is, how much he needs her, how much he loves her.

All she can do is mumble his name in return as the heat builds within her. Rocking against him one last time, she shudders, her harsh cry echoing in the confines of the car.

He groans as her body tightens around him, lifting his hips as he finds his release. He falls back against the seat, cradling her limp body in his arms, his breathing labored.

Pressing soft kisses in her hair, he rubs soothing circles on her back as she snuggles against him. "Feel better now?" he murmurs, grinning when he feels her poke him in the ribs.

Raising her face to his, she leans in for a slow, warm kiss. "I hate it when you're right," she mumbles against his lips.

His eyes widen comically as he pushes away from her slightly. "I'm sorry," he says, "can you repeat that for me? I didn't quite hear you."

She rolls her eyes and ducks her head. "You heard me just fine," she grumbles. "And _I__'__ll_likely never hear the end of it."

He laughs and pulls her closer, tucking her head in his shoulder. "I'll just remind you the next time you get cranky..."


	9. Whiskey

A/N: Here's yet another seriously naughty installment for our hot-blooded duo! My beta read it when it was half-done and insisted I finish it immediately because she liked it so much. Hope you enjoy it as much as she did. :)

Reviews are love!

And of course, extra special hugs and thanks and love and all that to said beta, **Mali****Bear****'****s****Buddy**. She's an amazing talent and a constant source of inspiration. She's got some really great Dean/Jo stuff going on, so go check out her stuff!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything related to Supernatural. But a girl can dream right?

Whiskey

Dean and Sophia sit at table near the back of the bar. Each has a glass of whiskey in front of them. It's been a long day and a difficult hunt and both are looking to relax.

Sophia leans back in the chair with a sigh, stretching her legs out in front of her. The denim skirt she's wearing rides up a little to reveal her tanned legs. Her eyes drift over the man seated next to her as she takes another swallow of her drink.

He's wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt is snug across his shoulders and around his biceps. She watches his arm flex as he raises his glass for another shot. His lips curve around the edge of the glass and the unconscious sensuality of it hits her like a rock through a plate glass window.

The heat pooling in her stomach and lower can no longer be blamed solely on the whiskey she's been drinking.

The exhaustion she's been feeling completely drains away, replaced instead by a lust of equal intensity. She reaches over to slide her hand along his well-muscled thigh.

He looks down at her, one eyebrow raised. When he catches the look in her eye, something flares inside him in answer. He takes her hand and brings it to his mouth, eyes not leaving hers. His lips graze over her palm, down to the inside of her wrist. He feels her shiver when his tongue darts out to trace the skin there and he grins wickedly.

Under the table, she shifts to slide her foot up and down the inside of his calf. She flips her hand in his, then drags it down to her leg. Never breaking eye contact, she sets his palm on the inside of her thigh, rubbing it back and forth against her bare skin.

His eyes darken. Continuing the sensual game, he draws her hand back to his lips. This time, his mouth closes around her index finger and he sucks at it lightly. He sees her breathing quicken. He rakes his teeth over the soft pad of her finger, then follows it with a soothing sweep of his tongue.

Watching him suck her finger is nearly as hot as feeling it. And the look in his eyes. It makes her knees weak and her bones dissolve. When he pops her finger out of his mouth, she nearly melts off the chair.

He leans toward her, mouth hovering over her ear. "Let's get out of here," he murmurs huskily.

Her toes curl at the sound of his voice and the heat that's been building in her boils over. She stands and tugs him up with her. Snaking her hand around his neck, she pulls his head down to hers. "That's gonna take too long," she whispers.

Ignoring the puzzled look on his face, she takes his hand and starts toward the other side of the bar. Halfway across the room, she feels him hesitate when he realizes her destination.

Reaching the bathrooms, she takes a quick look around, swings open the ladies room door and drags him inside, closing and locking it behind them.

"What're you doing?" he hisses, looking around the room as if he expects someone to pop out and catch them.

In reply, she wraps herself around him, reaching up to take his lips in a heated and hungry kiss. She feels his resistance for just a moment before he groans and tangles his hands in her hair, holding her at just the right angle for his mouth to plunder hers.

She leans into him, desperate for more and the shift sends him stumbling back to the wall. She molds her body to his with a sigh, rubbing her leg up his.

One hand releases her hair to drop down to her lower back, then down over her bottom, pressing her closer still. He moans softly when she responds by grinding against him. Ripping his mouth from hers, he mumbles breathlessly, "God, woman, you make me crazy."

"Back atcha," she replies, dragging his mouth to hers as she slides her hands under the t-shirt that's been making her nuts for the last hour. His skin feels almost feverish beneath her cool palms. She purrs softly as her fingers trace over the taut muscles of his stomach, feeling them tighten.

He, in turn, fumbles with the buttons on her shirt. As he slips the small buttons free, he breaks from her mouth to dot feverish kisses down her neck. Finally getting the shirt open, he unhooks the front catch of her bra.

Wrapping a strong arm around her waist, he bends her back over it and nearly attacks her breast with his scorching mouth. His tongue laves her budded nipple as she whimpers and tangles her fingers in his hair.

Several moments are lost to the delicious torture of his talented tongue before she's finally had too much and pushes at his shoulders. Twisting a finger in his belt loop, she pulls him back toward the sink.

Having long since forgotten whatever objections he might have had to this little excursion, Dean reaches for her skirt when he realizes what she's got in mind. He hitches it up to her waist before reaching for her panties. "Jesus, babe, you're soaking wet," he rasps as his fingers find their way to her core.

"Holy..." she gasps as her now bare bottom backs up against the cool porcelain of the sink at the same time as his finger slips inside her.

She squirms away from his seeking fingers, panting with the effort. She reaches for the fastening of his jeans, freeing him in seconds. He hisses a curse when she strokes his length and she smiles. "Payback's a bitch, huh?"

He growls and slides his hands to her hips, lifting her onto the edge of the sink. His mouth claims hers as he thrusts into her strongly, his fingers digging into her bottom.

She gasps against his mouth and immediately wraps her legs around his waist. "Oh, yessssss..." she pants in between hot, wet kisses.

He rocks against her, burying his face in her neck as he struggles to maintain at least a shred of control. The sound of her moans and breathless whimpers in his ear don't help. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back the orgasm that seems to be building from his toes up.

She chants what may or may not have been his name as she holds on to him, riding out the waves of the pleasure threatening to consume her. Her voice pitches higher as she gets closer and closer.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, "come for me now." He shifts her just slightly, allowing him a little different angle. They both groan at the change and he feels her body begin to tighten around him.

"Ahhhhhh," she cries as she arches into him and shatters into a million pieces.

He closes his eyes and tries to hold back just another moment, although the feel of her body clenching around him is almost more than he can bear. Another thrust and he's flying off the edge right after, groaning into her neck.

They don't move for several minutes, breathing hard and holding each other. Their eyes meet at last and they grin.

"That was..." she begins.

_Bam__! __Bam__! __Bam__! _"Hey," a slightly tipsy sounding woman's voice whines from outside, "what's taking so long in there?"


	10. Good Morning

A/N: I had an idea for a slow and sexy waking up thing for this series. This is not it. Dean has his own ideas about things sometimes and lord knows I can't resist that man when he wants something. I hope you enjoy!

All the awards and all the love and all the everything to my friend, **Mali****Bear****'****s****Buddy**. She's an amazing source of ideas, an extremely talented beta, and a better friend than I probably deserve. She's got a lot of good stuff working if you like Sam, Soulless!Sam, Dean or Dean/Jo. Please feel free to read her stuff and show her some love!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. More's the pity.

GoodMorning

Dean's eyes flutter open in the morning sun and he stretches lightly. A grin spreads across his face as he looks down at the woman curled against him.

His wife.

Never thought he'd ever say those words. But there they are. And while it's been six months since the wedding, he's still alternately exhilarated and terrified by the idea.

He leans down and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the citrusy scent of the shampoo she uses. He really can't believe his luck. To have this woman by his side, for as long as they both shall live.

There was something about the ritual of it. The symbolism of sliding his ring on her finger. Telling the world she's his. Giving her his name. It freed him in ways he still doesn't really understand.

Unable to wait for her to wake, he presses warm kisses on the soft skin of her neck until she stirs. He feels, rather than sees, the smile on her face as she comes awake.

"Good morning, Mrs. Winchester," he murmurs as he traces the shell of her ear with his mouth. He feels her shiver and chuckles softly.

Sophia giggles and turns in his arms to face him. "You like saying that, don't you?" she replies, her sleep husky voice making his toes curl.

He finds her left hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the finger wearing the white gold band studded with diamond baguettes. He had wanted to get her an engagement ring, go the traditional route, but she'd refused saying she would be terrified of losing it.

"Maybe..." he says with a grin.

He turns his attention back to her mouth, brushing it with his own. She purrs and presses against him. "My caveman side likes it that the world knows you're mine."

She snickers. "Your caveman side?"

"Mmm hmm," he murmurs, tongue flicking over her bottom lip. "Me Tarzan..."

Anything else he may have been looking to say is lost as she kisses him, tongue slipping slowly against his. It's slow and wet. Tender and hungry.

His hands wander over her naked skin. It's still warm from sleep and smooth as silk. His hand cups her breast, palm gliding over it, teasing the nipple to hardness.

She moans softly into his mouth and slides her arms around his neck. Her hands stroke down over his back and shoulders, nails raking gently across his skin.

Breaking the kiss, he drags his mouth over her jaw, down to her neck. His hands move to her bottom and pull her closer, hips making delicious friction.

"Dean," she sighs, fingers tangling in his hair.

Sliding down slightly, his hot mouth finds her breast, sucking lightly. She moans and arches toward him, giving him better access. He teases her nipple with his tongue, her breathy pants spurring him on.

He releases her breast and shifts back up to her mouth. "Been six months..." he says against her lips, "still glad you married me?"

"Most definitely," she mumbles, rubbing against him. "You still happy to have a ball and chain?"

A free hand slides down over her back and her bottom before dipping between her thighs. He groans softly. "It has its rewards," he mutters. "God, you're wet."

Breathing heavily, she hitches her leg up over his hip, inviting his exploration. "Ahhh..." she whimpers, "always for you."

His fingers explore the heat of her core, stroking, winding her up. Her heavy breath on his cheek tells him he's got it right.

"Please..." she begs as she presses super heated kisses on his throat. "I want you..."

He shifts slightly and slides into her. "Yes..." he groans as she closes around him.

He rocks into her deliberately, keeping it slow, making it last. He kisses her face as her arms tighten around him and she wraps her leg around his waist.

They move together, quiet and easy. Their eyes catch and hold, increasing the intimacy of the moment. His hand clenches on her hip, keeping her close. He grits his teeth, trying keep his control when she's nearly making him lose his mind.

"Dean..." she moans. Her tongue flicks over her lips and he swallows hard. "So close..."

Finding her mouth again, he rolls onto his back, swallowing her surprised gasp as she finds herself on top of him. His hands on her hips keep her moving.

She leans over him, breasts brushing his chest as she rolls against him. His mouth finds her ear and he whispers, "Come on baby. Let go. Come for me."

Rocking against him, she shudders and he feels her body clenching around him. He can't stopping himself from thrusting up, hips lifting off the bed as he shatters, gasping her name.

She collapses onto him, and he wraps his arms around her. He kisses the top of her head as he struggles to get his breathing back under control.

After a few moments, she raises her head, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. Her face is flushed and her lips turn up in amusement. "Yeah, you're definitely a keeper," she murmurs, "and you can wake me up like that any morning."


	11. Sofa

A/N: This one was done sort of by request. **Natali** has been a great reviewer and she requested something a little rougher after the last soft and sweet one. This is what that request inspired! I hope everyone enjoys and Natali, thanks for your support!

Special special thanks as always to **Mali Bear's Buddy** for her endless supply of ideas and support. I wasn't sure about this one and she talked me through my doubts, as well as providing her always excellent beta skills. I hope I remember to say thanks often enough, sweets, you're truly an irreplaceable part of my world! If you're looking for some fantastic writing, go check her out! She's brilliant!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Supernatural. I'll put Dean back when I'm done, promise!

Sofa

Sophia strides into the kitchen, throwing her car keys on the counter. Her body is stiff with anger. She stops in front of the sink, her hands curling over the edge as she stares down into it.

She hears Dean come in behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turns to face him, leaning against the edge of the counter.

His arms are crossed and his face is closed.

"Well," she says, "go ahead and say it, Dean."

He shrugs. "Say what, Sophia?" His tone is mocking and harsh.

"Whatever it is you've been dying to say since we left that barn," she lashes back. She knows he's angry. Knows this is gonna be yet another knockdown, drag out.

"Oh," he replies, voice dripping with venom, "you mean something about that stunt you pulled? Something about how you could have gotten yourself hurt?" His voice raises with each word. "Or maybe you mean something about how your reckless attitude is gonna get us all killed?"

Her eyes widen at that one. She'd been merely irritated so far, but that remark is like throwing gasoline on an open fire. "_My_ reckless attitude is going to get us killed? Are you fucking kidding me?" She's vibrating with anger now; her hands fisted, nails digging into the soft skin of her palm.

"I was _protecting _you," she hisses, stepping closer to him. "That thing was out of control, Sam was down and you were next. I had to do something." She stops, her eyes narrowing. "What's the matter, Dean? Can't take it that a girl saved your ass?"

His eyes darken and he steps closer, his body pushing her back against the counter. She tries to stand her ground, but his larger frame wins the battle. He's breathing hard and his jaw is clenched so tight she wonders if it might snap.

"You know damn well I don't care about that," he grits out as he looms over her. "What pisses me off is that you keep sacrificing yourself. Throwing yourself into these situations without thinking about the consequences." He rakes a hand through this hair before looking back down at her, countless emotions flickering through his clear green eyes. "If you want to leave me, just do it. Don't try to get yourself killed."

With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

Stunned for a moment, she finally uproots herself and follows him. Catching him in the living room, her words stop him in his tracks. "Who's leaving who?"

He turns to her, his face unreadable, even to her practiced eye.

"Who's the one leaving, Dean?" she asks again, gaze challenging. "If you want to leave me," she continues, tossing his words back at him, "just do it. Don't try to do it by shoving me away."

She knows the moment his control cracks. She can feel it. The intensity is almost overwhelming, but she doesn't stop. She pushes harder.

"Just admit it, for God's sake. You can't handle it, so you're looking for a reason to shut me out. A reason to push me away so you don't have to care."

He stares at her for a moment. Then his eyes flash and he makes a sound she could only describe as an anguished growl. Before she can react, he's in front of her and snatching her into his arms.

His lips come down on hers with punishing force as his fingers tangle in her hair. She doesn't even try to fight him. Instead she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back with equal ferocity.

His weight and momentum push them back and she bumps into the rear of the sofa. Neither lets up. Neither backs down. It's as if they're trying to devour each other.

Finally dragging his lips from hers, he breathes, "You're wrong. You know you're wrong." He slides rough hands under her shirt and unhooks her bra. As he frees her breasts to his demanding hands, he continues, "I can't live without you."

She doesn't reply, just pulls his head back down to hers for another burning kiss. She arches into his hands, her moan lost in the heat of his mouth. Scooting up onto the back of the sofa, she wraps her legs around him, pulling him in and rolling against his hardness.

Desperate for air, she's the one to break the kiss this time. Panting, she kisses along his jaw to his ear. "I know," she whispers and feels his hands tighten on her hips. His mouth on her neck stops its path of fire. "You have to trust me, baby."

She reaches for the button of his jeans, quickly undoing it and sliding down the zipper. Her fingers drift over his hard length and she hears him gasp in her ear. "I need you," she murmurs, nipping at his neck. "I need you right now."

He doesn't hesitate, pulling her down off the couch to her feet. His eyes catch hers and she shudders at the fire burning feverishly there. He quickly dispatches her jeans and panties, pausing to run his hands along her calves, her thighs to her hips. His mouth finds her navel, then further down, barely teasing at her center before he stands again.

He gives a brief, hard kiss before turning her to face the sofa. He nudges her feet apart, spreading her legs as she leans forward over the back of the furniture.

He kisses the nape of her neck, then nips along her shoulder as his fingers find her heat, making sure she's ready. She rocks back against him with a low moan. "Please," she sighs. "Now."

Her fingers curl into the sofa cushions as he enters in with one sure thrust. The sensation is almost overwhelming. Everything feels heightened. Intensified. She can feel the remains of his anger, his desperation, his pain in every thrust.

One hand flexes on her hip, keeping her steady as he sets a blistering pace. His other hand slides around under the shirt she's still wearing to cup her breast. She almost comes undone as he rolls her nipple between his fingers. She bites her lip to keep from crying out, but can't stop the keening moans that escape each time he slides into her.

His movements become less smooth as he approaches the edge. His fingers tighten almost painfully on her hip, but she's too lost in the heat building inside her to care.

Crying out his name, she pushes back into him, taking him deep as her orgasm crashes over her. This in turn pushes him over and he slumps over her, breathing hard.

She remains over the sofa, glad for its presence because she's not sure her knees would hold her if she tried to stand. His warm, hard body is draped over her and she finds she doesn't mind that either.

As his breathing slows from a harsh pant, he stands and pulls her into his arms. She lets him support her, her knees still wobbly from the force of her release.

His voice has a worried edge to it when he finally speaks. "Are you...ok?"

She nods, not moving her head from its spot on his chest.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, his tone clearly speaking his dread of the answer. He fusses with her shirt and bra, trying to smooth them into place.

This time she straightens, looking up at him. "God, no," she says softly. She pauses, trying to will away the blush she knows is now creeping over her cheeks. "That was...wow..."

He finally meets her eyes, uncertainty reflecting in them. "You're sure?" he murmurs, stroking her cheek. "I didn't mean to...that got...I was out of control."

"Very sure," she replies, turning her face to kiss his palm. "We were both a little out of control."

"The thought of losing you scares the hell out of me," he says gruffly as his arms tighten around her.

"Ditto."

He laughs softly, breaking the tension. "Now that we understand each other..."

She drags him to her for another kiss. When she pulls away, she murmurs, "Take me to bed, Winchester."

"My pleasure," he growls as he sweeps her up in his arms and heads for the stairs.


	12. Room 12

A/N: Sorry for the long delay! Hope someone's still out there to read this! Anyone who's read any of my stories knows I'm a total sucker for a reunion, and this is just another smutty version of that obsession. Please enjoy!

Thanks as always to **Mali Bear's Buddy**, for being my friend and supporting me! She's the reason you're reading this as it's been sitting around unfinished for more than a month. She's the reason you read anything from me, really, and I really appreciate her! She has some super fantastic stories out here, so do go read them. I promise you'll love them!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural, just writing for your amusement.

Room 12

"I'm sorry, babe, it looks like it's gonna be at least three days, maybe more."

Dean's voice sounds tired and stressed as he sighs into the phone.

Sophia frowns. He's been gone for five days already. "Well that sucks," she replies with her own heavy sigh.

"Yeah, I know. I miss you."

"I miss you too. I don't like it when you're away."

He chuckles. "No? I thought you women loved that sort of thing. Get the man out of the house so you can do your nails and eat chocolate or whatever the hell it is you do."

She snorts. "Yeah, that's what I've been doing this whole time." She pauses. "Well, that and the pizza man."

"Yeah, well, he'd better not be there when I get back," Dean growls. "Cuz I've got serious plans for you."

"I don't know, babe, I might be too exhausted for anything else by the time you get here," she says breezily.

He just growls again and she laughs in response.

There are voices in the background. "Hang on... Oh, ok. I gotta run, babe, Bobby's got something for us." His voice drops slightly, taking on a rough, intimate tone. One that curls her toes. One he saves just for her. "I love you. See you soon."

"I love you too," she murmurs and then hears the click of the call disconnecting.

She tosses the phone on the counter and grumbles lightly. He's been gone far too long and she's starting to get antsy. This was supposed to be a fairly quick and simple job for him and Sam to tackle, but it had turned into a mess.

As she stands there in the kitchen, her eyes light on her car keys. A slow smile crosses her face and she turns and runs for the stairs. Dean might not be able to come home, but nothing says home can't come to him.

~~~SPN~~~

Dean shakes himself back to the present after finding his mind wandering yet again. He feels like he might go blind if he reads one more page of these ancient texts. And his thoughts keep going to Sophia.

He misses her. Just that simple. He's so used to having her with him. Sharing the hunt, sharing his bed, sharing everything. While he's got Sam and Bobby here this time, it's not the same. He needs the solace he finds with her.

He sighs. And now it's going to be at least another three or four days before he can get back to her.

His cell phone chirps with the arrival of a text. When he glances over and sees it's from Sophia, he can't stop the smile crossing his face. The smile turns to surprise when he reads the message:

"Room 12. Now."

He's off the chair and out the door without another thought. Glancing at the doors, he almost runs down the sidewalk until he finds number 12. Taking a deep breath, he knocks.

He doesn't have to wait long for the door to swing open, revealing Sophia. He gapes at her for a moment, taking her in.

She smiles, then stretches out a hand to him. He doesn't waste another second staring, instead pulling her into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him.

Her arms circle his neck and he lifts her off her feet, hugging her to him. His face finds the soft skin of her neck and he breathes in her scent. Oranges. And something like vanilla. And other things he can't name, but are completely her.

They stand that way for a long moment. Both just reveling in being together. Being in each other's arms again. Just being.

She giggles softly in his ear as she presses a kiss to his neck. "Miss me?"

He sets her gently back on her feet, but doesn't release his hold. God, she fit so perfectly against him. "You have no idea," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. He brushes the backs of his fingers against her cheek and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

He just stares at her, drowning in the dark of her eyes. Then he frowns. "Wait, what are you doing here anyway? Did something happen? Is something wrong?" Worry makes him hold her tighter.

She shakes her head. "No, no, nothing's wrong." Her eyes drift down to his chest and she picks at the cotton of his shirt. "I just thought...since you couldn't come home, home could come to you."

When he doesn't immediately respond, she keeps talking. "I mean, I hope that's ok. I know you guys are busy and all, but I thought I could help too. If you want, of course. I'm sure you have it under control, but..."

He stops her nervous babble the best way he knows how: with a kiss. His mouth descends on hers, his tongue brushing her lips, seeking entry. He feels them part and his tongue pushes into the warmth of her mouth, eager and greedy.

She tastes like coffee and caramel. Her favorite Starbucks. His tongue slips against hers, tangling, dancing. It feels like months since he kissed her last and he moans softly as he devours her.

Finally dragging his mouth away, he pecks tiny kisses along her cheek and nose. He slides his hands over her throat then into her hair. Meeting her eyes, he murmurs, "It's way more than ok, babe. I'm lost without you." He shakes his head with a rueful grin. "I've been completely useless today cuz I couldn't stop thinking about you."

A wide smile crosses her face and her eyes light up. She looks so beautiful he can barely get his breath. He doesn't give her a chance to reply before he captures her lips again. He's even hungrier for her now, though that would have seemed impossible a moment ago.

His hands slip under the thin, long-sleeved t-shirt she's wearing to skate up her back. He groans when he finds she's not wearing a bra.

She breaks the kiss with another giggle, this one wicked. "Oh, it's even better than that, babe," she whispers. She pushes his arms down to the waist of her yoga style pants. "Keep going..."

Not wanting to miss the taste of her skin, he nibbles his way down her neck as his hands skim under the fabric. Another groan as he finds more bare skin. His fingers flex into the smooth skin of her bottom as she purrs her approval.

"I thought I'd be prepared," she murmurs huskily, "seeing as how you said you had plans for me."

"You're evil woman," he growls, pushing her back toward the bed as he drags the t-shirt over her head. He cups one breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm before twirling the nipple between his fingers.

She arches into his hand with a gasp, her fingers digging into his chest. "Maybe, but you love that about me..."

"Mmmm," he says as his hands skim over her waist, "definitely in the top five reasons..."

She snickers breathlessly and pushes his button down shirt off his shoulders. She then reaches for his t-shirt, rubbing over his broad chest as she pushes it up and off.

He groans softly as her warm mouth glides silkily over his collarbone, nipping gently. "I want you. Now."

Immediately, she steps away and he growls in frustration. Her eyes connect with his as she yanks the bedsheets down, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the end of the bed. Her fingers slip under the waist of her pants and she slides them slowly down over her hips, kicking them away as they puddle on the floor.

He swallows hard, his fingers flexing at his sides. His gaze skates over her. "So beautiful."

Her cheeks flush slightly. She lays back on the bed, hand reaching for him. He's sure he's never seen anything more inviting. More welcoming.

Quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes, he settles himself over her. Taking her hand, he tangles their fingers together. Emotion swells within him, but it's not enough to overpower the lust consuming him. The need to be inside her. To feel her all around him. To let _her_ consume him.

Needing to taste her skin, his tongue flows over her shoulder, down over her chest, into the valley of her breasts. He feels her shift restlessly under him, stretching up. Her nipple brushes his cheek and he turns to suck it into his mouth.

She whimpers as he suckles, teasing the taut nipple with his tongue. "Ahhhh, Dean..."

Releasing her breast, he drags his mouth over her ribs, her tight stomach rippling under his assault. His fingers stroke down her waist, finding the curve of her hip, then the soft skin of her thigh.

"Please, Dean," she murmurs. "I need you...I need to feel you..."

The heat and need in her voice cut through him, making his own desire suddenly unbearable.

He moves back over her, kissing her deeply. His fingers slide between her legs, growling when he finds her slick with want. "You're so ready, aren't you, baby?"

A breathless curse escapes her as she struggles against his probing fingers. "Now," she demands, her fingers digging into his back.

Unable to resist any longer, he joins them with a harsh groan. Burying his face in her neck, he sucks in deep breaths as her tight heat sheathes him, sapping his already waning control.

She wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer with a soft sigh. "Yesssss..."

He starts to move. Slowly. Deeply. Lifting his head, his gaze catches hers and holds. The connection that's been his salvation more than once since he met this woman strengthens, drawing them even closer together.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Her breathy pants tell him she's nearing her climax. He can feel her body shivering beneath him. Pulsing.

He increases his pace, unable to resist the call of her warmth. Fingers digging into her hip, he shifts her slightly beneath him, groaning roughly when the change sends him deeper still.

And then she's arching into him, voice hoarse as she calls his name. Her body throbs around him and he's shattering against her.

Collapsing over her for a moment, he kisses her neck, her shoulder, anything he can reach as he tries to catch his breath.

She doesn't unwrap herself from around him, instead tightening her hold. Her hands gently stroke the back of his head, the occasional shiver shaking her as she comes down.

He rolls onto his back, pulling her with him, so she sprawls over him. "Damn."

She giggles softly. "I can't feel my toes."

He kisses the top of her head with a chuckle. "I'll bet the pizza man couldn't do that, huh?"

Raising her head, she quirks an eyebrow at him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"


	13. Nightie Night

A/N: Ok, so I have to confess...this one came to me while I was browsing through a Victoria's Secret catalog... :) For some reason, I have it in my head lingerie would be such a treat for Dean, so I finally got around to writing something where that was the theme. Please enjoy!

Always for **Mali Bear's Buddy**. She's an amazing writer, an amazing beta and an amazing friend. I can't begin to explain how much her presence in my life means to me. If you're looking for some truly stunning fanfiction, check out her page. She's got a little something for everyone, but especially Dean/Jo fans. Go show her some love!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Supernatural, only borrowing for fun.

Nightie Night

Dean hears the bathroom door open and the soft crush of Sophia's feet on the thick carpet.

"There you are," he says, his eyes still on the TV. "I was beginning to think you were gonna sleep in the bath..." His words drift away as his gaze finds her, nervously fidgeting at the end of the bed.

His eyes widen as they slide over her outfit. It's black and completely sheer. A baby doll top, fitted under her breasts and draping loosely over her flat belly. Tiny red bows sit on each shoulder. The panties are also black and sheer, decorated with satiny red ties on each hip.

The remote drops from his hand, the TV now forgotten. "You look..." He swallows hard. "Wow."

He watches, jaw almost unhinged, as she slips around to his side of the bed and snags the remote. She turns off the TV and sets the controller on the night table. The sheer nightie covers her, yet leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination in a way that makes him drool.

"You like it?" she asks, a little uncertainty clouding her voice. Her fingers flit against the hem of the top, making it shimmer in the dim light of the small lamp next to the bed.

"Are you kidding?" he growls, as he sits up and reaches out to take her hand. "God, babe, you look hot as hell."

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her confidence returning at his reaction. She wiggles a little as she settles in, a naughty smile on her lips as she hears his rough curse. Leaning down, she gives him a nice view of her cleavage as she scrapes her nails lightly over his chest.

"When I saw it," she murmurs, "I thought of you."

He drags his eyes from her breasts to meet hers. He tries to focus enough on her words to reply as his hands drift over her thighs to her hips. "You did?"

"Uh huh," she whispers, rocking against him as she slides her lips to his ear. "I thought about the look on your face when you saw it." She chuckles softly.

Mouth moving and tongue teasing, she glides from his ear, along his jaw and back to his mouth. Lips hovering over his, she murmurs huskily, "And then I thought about you taking it off."

He groans softly, reaching for her mouth, but doesn't get more than a whisper of a kiss before she's moving again. "Sophia..."

Another wicked chuckle is her only reply.

With a growl, he slides his hands over her bottom, pulling her even tighter against him. He can feel her heat through the barely there panties and grits his teeth. His hands shift under the edge of the top to caress bare skin.

"What if I don't want to take it off?"

The hitch in her surprised breath turns him on even more. A visual of her in that filmy, see through top, rocking over him, her head thrown back, lips parted, flashes through his mind. _Oh __yeah__, __definitely __gonna __make __that __happen__._

Eventually.

Deciding to give her back some of her teasing, he interrupts her exploration of his chest and rolls her beneath him.

Pinning her arms over her head, he leans down to take her now pouting lips in a kiss. His tongue demands entry as he grinds slowly against her. Her throaty moan gives him what he wants and his tongue slips along hers.

He kisses her long and slow, rocking against her as he explores the heat of her mouth. Her leg wraps around his, rubbing up and down. The feel of her soft skin against his is heady.

He releases her hands, gliding down her arms to her waist as his mouth shifts to her neck. His teeth nip over her collarbone and she shivers beneath him.

As much as he wants to keep teasing her, her taut nipples poking out the silky fabric are completely distracting. He feels her fingers fluttering through his hair as he flicks his tongue over one of the peaks.

"Mmmm, Dean...that's..." she purrs brokenly as he sucks lightly at her. She arches toward him. "More..."

Switching to the other breast, he continues to suck at her, his tongue rolling the material of the top over her nipple, hardening it even further. His hands push the rest of the material up, and his mouth moves down, looking for bare skin.

He reaches her hip, kissing the curve of it as he reaches for the tie on one side. "All your underwear need to work like this," he growls as he gives it a tug. He hears her breathless laugh in reply as he kisses his way to the other hip and tugs that side undone as well.

He doesn't immediately remove the covering, however, preferring instead to see if the feel of that material rubbing over her sensitive core is just as good as rubbing it over her nipples. Teasing her with his fingers, he licks his lips in anticipation.

Her hips rise and fall, trying to get some kind of rhythm, but he holds her still. "Not yet, baby," he murmurs, finally pulling the panties away. He groans when he feels how soaked they are. "I've got a lot more planned for you."

"Dean..." she whines, pulling at him. "You're killing me here..."

He chuckles, the hiss of air across her heat making her squirm. "Shoulda thought of that before you came out in this outfit, sweetheart."

Leaning forward, his tongue teases over her. He moans softly at the taste and hears her gasp in answer. Calling on all his self-control, he works her slowly, mouth and fingers dragging her to the edge and then easing her back.

The desperate sounds of her panting breath drive him on. Her trembling limbs and slick core make desire burn hot in his gut. But he doesn't give her her release. Not yet. He wants to be inside her.

When he removes his mouth and fingers from her, she whimpers in disappointment, body moving restlessly. "Please, baby..."

Quickly shedding his boxers, he slides back up over her. Their mouths meet and tongues tangle. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she struggles to pull him to her.

Rolling onto his back, he settles her atop him. "You ready to take what you want?" he growls, fingers tight on her thighs.

"Oh, God," she groans as she takes him in, rolling her hips forward. Her hands slide over his chest, looking for leverage as she rides him.

He grits his teeth and surges up to meet her. She's soaking wet and hot and tight and almost more than he can take. His hands are urgent on her hips and she meets him stroke for stroke.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches her. Christ, the real thing is even better than he imagined.

The flirty top pulls tight against her breasts as she moves, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her pebbled nipples. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted. Her thighs are soft as they brush against his hips, adding another layer of sensation.

Sophia begins to move faster, her motions not as smooth. Her fingers tighten on his chest and she gasps his name as she reaches orgasm.

As her body throbs around him, he feels his own climax start from somewhere near his toes. He arches toward her, pulling her down over him, going as deep as possible as he cries out.

As he collapses back, boneless, Sophia falls over top of him, breathing hard. With some effort, he tosses one arm around her waist, holding her steady as they come back to their senses.

She scoots up his body, nuzzling his neck. "Mmmmm," she purrs, settling in over him.

He snickers softly and takes her hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he kisses her palm. "Got enough?"

Her lips find his ear, tongue flicking the lobe. "Never."


	14. Happy Anniversary

A/N: Credit for the image that inspired this goes to my dear real-life Sophia. She used it in a story she wrote for me and graciously consented to allow me to use it for a one of these smutty little entries. It truly is a fantastic image and I still can't quite get it out of my head. *fans self* Please enjoy!

Extra special thanks to my beta, friend and inspiration, **Mali Bear's Buddy**. She keeps me going on this stuff and is an endless source of ideas and encouragement. She has some terrific stories on her profile and I would highly recommend giving them all a read!

Also, thanks to **Night ****. Owl . 1213** for leaving such kind reviews and encouraging me to write more of these little goodies!

Oh! And if anyone has any ideas for something they'd like to see in this series, please feel free to PM me! I take requests! :)

Happy Anniversary

Sophia stirs in the bed, stretching like a cat. Almost instantly, she realizes she's alone. Her eyes pop open and she reaches to the other side of the bed for Dean.

The sheets are cool, so he's apparently been gone for some time. She frowns, wondering what could have him up and about so early. Especially today of all days.

She gets out of bed and pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants. Heading downstairs, she can hear noises coming from the kitchen. The clatter of pans and something that might be singing.

Quirking an eyebrow, she stops at the kitchen door and swings it partway open, peeking inside. What she sees there stops her heart and sends her libido into overdrive.

Dean has his back to her. He's standing in front of the stove, stirring what appears to be a pan of scrambled eggs. On the griddle on the next burner are golden pancakes looking almost done. The counter nearby has a bowl of fruit salad and a pitcher of orange juice. Finally, a fresh pot of coffee is brewing next to the stove.

But it's not the fact that he's cooking that takes her breath away and makes her blood run hotter. Nor is it because he's gone to so much trouble to make her breakfast.

It's that he's stark naked. Except for her grandmother's ancient, frilly apron.

She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle the combination of laughter and a moan trying desperately to escape her. He looks both ridiculous and absolutely, heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

The top of the apron, tied around his neck, only serving to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. The muscles of his back flex and ripple as he stirs the eggs and tosses the pancakes onto a platter.

Her eyes travel further down. The apron is tied around his waist in a bow. She involuntarily fans herself as she takes in the sight of the long ends of the tie dangling down over his perfectly luscious ass. And his thighs. All of it curving, tightening and releasing as he continues his cooking.

She slips into the kitchen, the sound of the door covered by the fact that he's singing. She almost snickers when she recognizes the tune as AC/DC. _Only __Dean__._

She stops when she reaches the small kitchen table and leans back against it. Crossing her arms, she gets comfortable and watches the show for another moment before drawling, "Nice apron."

Dean nearly throws the pan of eggs across the room and she has to suppress a laugh at the wild eyed look on his face as he turns to face her.

"What the hell, Sophia? You oughtta know better than to sneak up on a hunter."

"A hunter?" she snorts, looking him up and down. "Is that what you're supposed to be?"

The hint of a blush creeps up his neck and he quickly turns his attention back to the stove. He shrugs carelessly. "Well, I couldn't very well cook completely naked, could I? Wouldn't want to damage the merchandise."

She giggles then, but doesn't take her eyes off his magnificent body. She hopes all this food will keep because she has no intention of eating just now.

He scrapes the eggs out of the pan and onto two plates, seemingly oblivious to her lascivious thoughts. "This was supposed to be a surprise," he mumbles with a little pout before he glances over his shoulder at her.

Whatever he sees in her face makes him turn fully to face her, his eyes darkening. "So, chef," she murmurs, moving to stand right in front of him, nearly pressed against him. "Will all this stuff wait for awhile?"

He swallows hard and nods.

"Good," she says, trailing a finger down over his chest, "cuz I'm thinking I want to skip straight to dessert."

With a growl, he drags her into his arms, holding her tight against him. He breezes a kiss over her lips. "Let me guess," he murmurs against her mouth, flicking his tongue over her bottom lip, "I'm dessert?"

"Oh, hell yeah," she replies, slipping her arms around his waist then dropping her hands down to cup his ass. Reaching up on tiptoe, she captures his mouth with her own, suddenly starving for him.

Their tongues duel, as each tries to devour the other. His hands pull at her thin t-shirt, hauling it over her head before going back to her mouth. He cups her breast, thumb brushing over the nipple, catching her breathless moan with another kiss.

In turn, Sophia undoes the tie on the top of the apron, pulling it down slowly, fingernails dragging teasingly over his taut abs. Drawing her lips from his, she trails kisses down over his chest, her tongue tasting his salty skin. She feels his hands tighten on her bottom when she flicks at his nipple, alternating her tongue and her teeth.

Pushing her back, he pushes her pajama bottoms down and she kicks them away. He lifts her up on the table, then twists his fingers in her hair and tilts her face back up to his. Growling, his open mouth meets hers, hot and voracious.

Sophia wraps her legs around his waist, surrounding him and holding him tight to her. She moans as she feels his rock hard length pressed against her stomach through the soft fabric of the bottom of the apron. Rolling against him, she breaks the kiss, breathing hard. Eyes meet and she shudders at the raw lust and hunger in his.

His hands slip from her hair and down over her back. It feels like they're everywhere. But somehow it's still not enough. They move along her hip, her waist, her ribs. One finds her breast again, palming it.

Nowhere near enough.

She undoes the second apron tie at his waist and jerks the material away. God, the way his skin feels as it rubs over hers. Leaning back slightly, she reaches between them and takes him in her hand. He gasps as she strokes him, his grip on her thighs tightening almost painfully.

"Sophia," he rasps. He grabs her wrist, stopping her assault.

She pouts slightly, only to suck in a sharp breath as his hand slips between them and returns the favor, his fingers dancing along her heat. "Fuck..."

"God, yes," he groans, shifting her so he can join them in one smooth thrust.

"Dean..." Her legs lock around his waist and her fingers tense on his biceps as he starts to move.

He loops his arms around her back, supporting her as she arches into him. Burying his face in her neck, his hot breath tickles the sensitive skin and she shivers.

The only sounds after that are panting breaths and hungry whispers. Soft moans and eager groans. The sigh of a name.

She can feel her orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm her. _So __close__. _ She hears his breathing change as his movements speed up and she knows he's close too. Releasing her death grip on his arms, she leans back, palms supporting her on the table.

He plunges deeper and the sweet tension that's been building inside her finally snaps. She calls his name, eyes falling closed as her body throbs around him.

He rocks against her a few more times before she feels him stiffen with a harsh groan. One hand falls to the table, propping himself up before he collapses on her, his other arm still around her waist holds her to him.

As their breathing slows, Dean kisses her softly, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs. Winchester."


	15. Rack 'Em

A/N: Someone on my twitter feed mentioned shooting pool with Dean and somehow my muse took off and came up with this...naughty, naughty muse... ;)

Special thanks to **Night .Owl .1213** for her support and encouragement and suggesting how this should play out (My beta liked your idea much better than what I originally started with...and you both were right!).

As always, I couldn't do any of this without my wonderful friend, beta, writing partner, **Mali Bear's Buddy**. She helps me take my ideas and make them better, she's a constant source of inspiration and encouragement, and she never lets me give up. I've never felt more special than since I met her. Thanks, sweets! She's also an excellent writer, so go check her out (esp. if you're into Dean/Jo!).

Rack 'Em

"Hey, Sophia," Dean calls from the next room. "Come check this out!"

They've been investigating an abandoned house for nearly thirty minutes now, looking for anything to explain why the owner's ghost is haunting his old business partner.

Sophia pokes her head in the door. "Oh, wow," she says as she steps in. "An old-school billiards room!"

"Isn't it cool?" he replies, looking for all the world like a kid at Christmas. He moves toward the massive table in the middle of the room. "This is a beauty," he says, awe in his voice as he runs his hand over the fabric. "Absolutely gorgeous."

"Maybe someday you can teach me to play."

He turns to her, a look of shock on his face. "You don't know how to play pool?" he gasps.

She shrugs. "Nope, never learned." She laughs at his horrified expression. "What? Am I un-American or something?"

Immediately he moves around to the end of the table and starts racking the balls. "Pretty much," he teases, grinning at her. "I had no idea you were so uncultured."

She laughs. "If you say so."

Setting up the game, he grabs a cue from the case on the wall and chalks the end. "Ok, come here," he says. "We'll start with the break."

He holds the cue out to her. "Get over here, woman."

"Fine, fine. But you can't laugh at me when I miss," she grumbles, taking the stick from him.

"I'm gonna help you, baby."

The tone in his voice makes her look at him sharply and he grins at her in reply.

"OK," he instructs, "lean over the end of the table here, stick out in front, resting on your fingers."

She sets up as he asks. She sucks in a breath as he leans over her, his body molding against hers. She can feel his hips snug against her bottom, his thighs rubbing the backs of her own. One hand reaches out to steady her arm on the table, the other comes to rest just behind hers on the end of the cue.

And then there's his voice. Low and seductive right next to her ear.

"What're you doing?" she murmurs, completely distracted by the feel of his warm, hard body pressed up to hers.

She can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "I'm teaching, shhhh."

She snorts. "Uh huh." She wiggles her bottom against him, chuckling at his hiss.

"Settle down," he mumbles. "Now, we're aiming for the space between the ball at the top and the ball to the right of it. Ease the stick back and forth a few times, make sure you're hitting it in the middle."

He glides the stick back and forth in her hands. "You're a natural, babe," he snickers.

"Focus, Winchester."

Still chuckling, he pulls the stick back again. "Whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, she eyes the cueball and then shoves the stick forward. Dean's guiding hand keeps it from jabbing the felt of the table and they make contact with the ball. The shot just manages to catch the edge of the lead ball and they get something more or less like a break.

She sighs heavily and straightens. "This is why I don't play pool."

"Hey, that wasn't bad for a first shot," he replies, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You'll get the hang of it."

They move around the table, continuing her lesson. She misses often, but eventually gets a few into the pockets, one after the other.

"Three ball, corner pocket," she says, gesturing with her stick in that direction.

Dean looks at the shot and looks at her. "Um, babe, I don't think..."

She raises an eyebrow at him and adds more chalk to her cue. "You don't think what?"

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, reluctant. "Well, I don't think you're gonna be able to make that. It's a pretty complicated shot."

"Aww, c'mon," she replies. "I've been doing pretty good."

He shrugs. "Up to you, but it's not gonna happen."

"You wanna bet?"

He looks up at her, surprised. "Bet? Are you serious?"

"Sure I'm serious. You're so sure I'm not gonna make it, what've you got to lose?"

He grins. "Okay, what's the bet then?"

She whispers in his ear and he accepts. "Knock yourself out, babe," he says, arms crossing over his chest, cocky grin.

A swift grin flashes across her face and she leans over the table. She lines up the shot and expertly sinks the named ball in the pocket.

She straightens and turns her attention to Dean. He's staring at her with his mouth half-open. She can see his mind trying to process what just happened.

"You hustled me!" he says, his tone a combination of awe and question.

She snickers and moves to stand in front of him, leaning back against the edge of the table. "Maybe just a little."

"Just a little? Hell, _I _couldn't sink that shot! That was pro level!"

Laughing, she reaches out and pulls him to her, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table. "Well," she confesses, "I've been playing since I was a kid. Thought about going pro, but there's more fun in the hustle."

"Damn," he says with a shake of his head, still trying to reconcile his Sophia with the shark who just bested him.

"S'okay, baby," she murmurs. "Lucky for you, shooting pool turns me on." Her arms slide around him as her legs wrap around his waist. "Especially when being taught how to play involves you rubbing against me in almost all the right places."

His eyes meet hers and she can see already see the lust darkening them to endless pools. "Lucky for you," he murmurs silkily, "I'm not a sore loser."

She giggles and catches his mouth with hers. His tongue slips inside her mouth to tangle with hers hungrily.

His hands slide over her thighs and up under her shirt to cup her full breasts. His thumb strums across one nipple and she moans softly.

She tugs at his shirt and they break the kiss to pull it off and toss it to floor. Hers follows immediately after and his mouth teases down her throat, tongue flicking over her now racing pulse point.

Impatient, she undoes her bra and yanks it off. She leans back, her hands resting on the soft felt of the table, back arching toward him.

He takes the invitation and moves to suck one tightly budded nipple into his mouth as his hands tighten on her hips. He grinds against her and she can feel his smile against her skin when she whimpers with pleasure.

Dean's hands shift to the fastening on her jeans and she lifts her hips as he pulls them and her panties down, tossing them aside. His hands roam over her body, setting fires wherever they touch.

She sits up and slides off the edge of the table to get his jeans stripped off. Her hand closes around his hard length and his eyes slam shut. "Mmmm," she murmurs, "shooting pool must turn you on, too."

He growls in return, his hips jerking as she strokes him teasingly. Finally, he grabs her wrist and pushes her back against the table.

"Alright woman," he says huskily, "that's enough." He grins at her as his hand slides between her thighs. "Let's see if you're as turned on as you say."

She gasps and spreads her legs a little wider, allowing him better access. She leans back gripping the edge of the table, knuckles white as he slips two fingers inside her, his thumb stroking the bundle of nerves at her center.

Dean's mouth moves to her ear. "Oh, yeah. Just as wet as I thought."

She rocks against his hand, head thrown back. His fingers move at just the right pace in just the right spot to drive her mad. "Ahhhh, Dean," she moans throatily, "oh, God, I'm gonna..."

He stops then, snickering at her mew of disappointment. "No, baby," he says, "not yet. I want to be inside you when I make you come."

"Damn it," she pants, her knees wobbling as she struggles to maintain control. She presses herself against him, feeling his arousal rub against her belly. "What the fuck are you waiting for then?"

After another demanding kiss, he whispers against her lips, "Turn around."

Her eyes widen slightly, but she does as he asks. She leans over the table, fingers scrabbling at the smooth covering, trying to find some way to hang on for what's coming next. She arches back toward him, begging silently.

He leans over her, much the same way he did when he was "teaching" her to shoot pool. Except now they're skin to skin and she's burning up with desire.

"This is what you wanted the whole time, isn't it, baby?" he whispers, his breath blowing across the back of her neck, making her shudder. "You wanted to be bent over this table and feel me slide inside you. Just. Like. This."

As he speaks, he thrusts into her, filling her completely. Twin moans escape them as she pushes back into him, taking him deep inside.

"Yes," she whimpers, "yes." She feels his mouth on the back of her neck. Her shoulder. The pleasure winds tighter and tighter inside her as he moves against her, rocking them closer and closer.

One hand slides down over her arm and tangles their fingers. The other tightens on her hip, holding her in place.

"God, you feel so good," he murmurs. "So hot...so tight."

"Please," she whispers, her breath coming in short pants. "Oh, Dean, please..."

His hot breath is on her ear again and his fingers tense against hers. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you come for me."

And she does. A high pitched moan escapes as she rocks into him and shatters under the weight of her orgasm.

He groans heavily and finds his own release shortly after, putting his free hand down on the table to take his weight off her. "Jesus," he breathes, placing open mouth kisses across her back.

She gives a breathless laugh and squeezes his hand as he shifts off her, allowing her to turn. She scoots up on the table, not trusting her legs to hold her.

Dean leans between her legs and she wraps her arms around him, kissing him lightly.

"You're an excellent teacher," she says with a satisfied smile. "I'm pretty sure I'll need more lessons..."

He snickers, pulling her close and placing a kiss on her nose. "Maybe we could get a pool table for the house..."


	16. Gotta Wait

A/N: So we did "Can't Wait" earlier in this series, and now we have "Gotta Wait." Thanks for the idea goes to my lovely and creative beta who suggested they be interrupted by a hunt and have to wait. My muse totally took off and ran with the idea, so here's the result! Hope it's as hot as I think... :)

Special thanks to **Mali Bear's Buddy**, not only for the fantastic idea and excellent beta work, but for everything she does. If you're looking to read some really well done Supernatural fanfiction, go check out her stories...they're just fantastic!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognize. Just for fun!

Gotta Wait

"Mmmmm, Dean, please..." Sophia moans, tugging at Dean's shoulders.

He grins at her, wickedly teasing her with his fingers. "What's your hurry, baby?" he purrs.

"I want you now," she whines, arching against him, as her fingers flirt with his hard length in retaliation.

He kisses her deeply and is just about to thrust into her when they're startled by a loud banging on the door.

"Dean, Sophia, come on," Sam shouts, "we got a hit. We've gotta go."

"Jesus," Dean mumbles, burying his face in Sophia's neck. "He can't be serious."

There's more banging at the door. "C'mon you guys. Now."

Sophia rolls her eyes, pushing Dean off her and scrambling from the bed. "Yeah, I think he's serious, babe." Raising her voice, she calls, "Coming Sam. Just a second."

Grumbling, Dean pulls himself from the bed and dresses quickly. He groans as he zips up his jeans, the friction on his arousal almost more than he can bear. Hearing Sophia's giggle, he glares at her and shrugs on his shirt. "I don't know what's so damn funny," he pouts.

He shoves his feet in his boots and approaches her from behind. His hands slip around her waist then down between her thighs, cupping her through the heavy cotton of her jeans. She moans heavily and leans back against him. "Not so funny now, is it?"

"Fuck you," she murmurs, grinding her bottom against him as she slides her hand over his, holding him in place.

Dean pulls away, placing a quick kiss on her neck. "I was about to before we were so rudely interrupted..."

Sophia swallows hard and gives him a quick elbow to the ribs before swinging open the door to face an impatient Sam.

~~~SPN~~~

In the car, Dean struggles to adjust the front of his jeans. Rather unsuccessfully.

He glances over at Sophia, who's trying to smother a laugh. Also rather unsuccessfully.

"You just wait," he murmurs, trying to keep his words from his brother in the back seat. "You'll be screaming my name before the night's done."

Sophia leans toward him, her breath on his ear, her hand snaking up his inner thigh. "Promises, promises, big man."

He just growls in response, shoving her hand away and pressing down further on the accelerator.

~~~SPN~~~

They spend the next several hours in the dark and cold of the bushes of the local park. Waiting for their target.

Sophia continues to torment Dean with dirty talk and wandering hands while somehow actively maintaining her search for their guy.

Dean, despite the cold, is almost as aroused as he was when they left the hotel room. He doesn't even try to kid himself that he's in any way focused on the case. His thoughts are completely consumed by the woman beside him and when he's going to get her into his bed and bury himself in her hot, wet body.

It occurs to him he's not going to last more than two seconds with her if he doesn't calm down, so he tries to focus on something else.

_Baseball?_ No, he hates baseball.

_What the hell else are you supposed to think about? England? Nuns? Your fourth grade teacher? No, mine was a hottie all the boys had crushes on. _

He sighs heavily and adjusts his still far too tight jeans again. Then he hears a warning hiss from Sophia and manages to get his head (his big boy head as Sophia calls it) back into the game long enough to help her and Sam take the guy down.

~~SPN~~

The ride back to the motel is quiet. Sam slumps in the backseat, staring out the window. Sophia has her head against the door, eyes closed. _She can't seriously go to sleep on me..._

When they reach their room, Sophia unlocks the door and steps inside. She tosses her key on the table and shrugs off her jacket. Dean is doing the same when she turns to look at him.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment and something flashes between them. Sophia launches herself at him, her mouth finding his as she wraps her arms around his neck. The force of it causes Dean to stumble back against the door.

Her hands are everywhere. One is pushing his denim button down off his shoulder as the other is tugging at her own long-sleeved t-shirt. Finally, she breaks the kiss to pull her shirt over her head and toss it to the floor.

"I thought you were tired," Dean says, a little confused and a lot turned on.

She grins at him and drags his t-shirt over his head. "Not a chance, Winchester," she growls.

"But in the car..."

"I had to do something to keep from jumping you right there in front of Sam," she says with a shrug. Her hands reach for the button on his jeans and he sucks in a sharp breath. "Pretending to sleep worked."

Finally catching up, he growls softly and grabs her wrists, bending her arms behind her and arching her toward him. His mouth meets hers, tongues clashing as she squirms against him. "I should leave you this way," he mutters as his mouth trails down over her throat, "after what you did on that stakeout."

"I didn't want you to lose interest," she breathes as his tongue strokes over her collarbone. She struggles against his grip, but he holds firmly to her wrists.

"Yeah, like that's ever gonna happen," he says, backing her up toward the bed. "God, woman, I want you so bad I can hardly see straight."

He pushes her back onto the mattress and moves to strip off her boots, then her jeans and panties. He leaves her bra in place. It's one of those ridiculously lacy ones that doesn't leave a damn thing to the imagination. And he can imagine quite a bit.

Stripping off the rest of his own clothes, he starts at her feet and kisses his way up. She's moving again, whimpering his name, but he doesn't stop. His lips glide along her smooth calf, the inside of her knee. His tongue tastes the skin of her inner thigh, then her hip and her taut stomach.

She tugs at him. "Dean, please," she mumbles, "now. I want you inside me."

His tongue dips in her navel, then moves up to her breasts. He teases between them and over the tops They rise and fall with her accelerated breath. His hands smooth up her arms, then down along her ribs to her waist.

"I told you," he says roughly, "I want you screaming my name before this is done." He looks up at her, holding her gaze as his tongue flicks out to barely brush her nipple through the bra. She gasps, her fingers flexing into the sheets. "You can't rush perfection, babe."

She half-moans, half-whines as his mouth closes fully over her lace covered nipple and sucks softly. Her fingers thread through his short hair, pulling him closer as she arcs toward him. She slides one leg over his hip and rocks against him.

Knowing he's not really interested in waiting much longer, he tucks a hand between her thighs, fingers slipping over her slick heat. "Are you ready for me, baby?"

Sophia moans heavily as one finger glides inside her and a shudder passes over her. "God, I am so ready," she mumbles, dragging his mouth to hers. Their tongues mimic the thrust and parry of his finger.

Dean moves over her, settling between her thighs. His hands grip tightly on her hips, lifting her to him as he thrusts deeply. They both groan softly as he sinks into her, the sense of completion almost overwhelming.

Their mouths meet in rough, incomplete kisses as they move together. Each giving and taking from the other in a steady rhythm. His hands slide up and down her thighs and around her bottom. Hers glide up and down his back, fingers digging into his shoulders as he shifts her slightly, driving deeper.

He rains kisses down her neck, hiding his face as he rocks into her. The last bits of his control are burning rapidly away in the firestorm raging between them. God, the sounds she makes alone are enough to send him over the edge. He grits his teeth, shifting her again, pushing her harder. Faster.

Sophia bows beneath him, fingernails gouging his back as she screams his name, shuddering powerfully as her orgasm slams into her.

The feel of her body clenching around him is more than he can bear and he thrusts into her one last time with a rough groan. Collapsing on top of her, he tries to catch his breath. Or even breathe at all.

"I hope I'm not crushing you," he pants, "cuz I can't move."

Sophia laughs breathlessly. "I'm good."

He lifts his head slowly. "You'd better be more than good after that."

"You have such an ego, Winchester," she replies, moving to kiss him slowly.

Taking a deep breath, he rolls off her, flopping onto his back. Turning his head, he gives her wicked grin. "You did end up screaming my name, though, didn't you, sweetheart?"


	17. Hot Now Wow

A/N: This is one of those crazy ideas inspired by some of the crazy discussions I have with the lovely Sophia (the real one, not the character). She was trying to help me get past some writer's block and was in the mood for some slightly aggressive Dean. I think the title pretty much tells you where we're going with this one... ;)

Love and hugs and much appreciation to said Sophia (**Mali Bear's Buddy**) for all her love, support, fantastic ideas and inspiration. She's a true talent as well and you should be reading her stuff if you're not already. Go...now...we'll wait! ;)

Also, to Natali, who's such a great reviewer and supporter of these stories. Got your suggestion and I might have an idea for something a little longer...a little slower burn. :)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Supernatural. Shocking, huh?

Hot Now Wow

They stumble through the motel room door; mouths fused, hands grasping. Dean kicks it shut behind them, then spins Sophia around and presses her against the cool metal. Her soft curves melt against him and he swallows a moan.

"Christ, I've been wanting to do this since I saw you in this outfit," he mutters against her lips. His hands roam over her ribs, her waist, her hips and down over her thighs. He takes her mouth again, tongue hot and demanding as he grinds against her.

Sophia moans into his mouth, her hands sliding over his back and shoulders. She pushes his jacket off, then tugs at his t-shirt, her palms warm on his abs. Breaking the kiss, she helps him out of the shirt, dragging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. She presses quick, open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone, her tongue flicking against his skin as she goes.

"I could feel you watching me the whole time," she pants between kisses. She grins at him, the insane heels she's wearing putting her closer to his height. "Half ready to protect me and half ready to rip my clothes off."

He growls softly. "I was ready to rip apart anyone who came within twenty feet of you." He moves away slightly, watching her shiver as the cooler air of the room comes between them. "Now I want to get you naked. Turn around."

Her eyes widen slightly, but she does as he asks, her hands resting lightly on the door for balance.

The tiny gold lame top she's wearing is all string on the back and barely covers her front. He tugs one of the ties undone and part of the top loosens. He tugs another and even more of her back is exposed. One more tie remains and when he undoes it, the top falls away.

She'd put her hair up into a messy twist, so the line of her neck and her back are completely exposed. Dean's hands trace down over the creamy skin. Fingers follow the line of her spine down to where it disappears below the low cut waist of her miniskirt. His mouth finds the back of her neck and he feels her shudder. Kissing his way along the line of her shoulder, he lets his tongue slip out to taste her smooth skin. The citrus scent of her soap tickles his nose.

His hands move from her hips up and around to her breasts, cupping them as she leans back against him. He kisses her throat before taking her earlobe in his mouth. She whimpers and slides one hand around the back of his neck. Her skin feels like it's burning everywhere it's pressed against him.

"Dean...," she moans as she rubs against him. "God, I want you." She turns back to face him and reaches for the fastening on his jeans. Quickly unzipping them, she slides her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around his arousal.

He groans and can't stop his hips from surging forward as she strokes him. His fingers tighten on her bottom and his eyes close. Jesus, her hand feels so good on him. But that's not how he wants this to go and after a moment, he reluctantly grabs her wrist.

He twists both her arms up over her head, pinning them with one of his own. His free hand pushes up the hem of her skirt and slips between her thighs. The tiny scrap of lace panty is pushed aside and he finds her molten hot and slick with need. With a soft moan, she arches into his hand, squirming. He catches her mouth in another kiss, his tongue moving against hers in the same rhythm as his fingers against her core.

"So wet," he murmurs as his lips drift over her jaw. "So wet for me."

"Only for you," she pants, struggling to break his hold on her hands. "Dean, please."

He straightens, gaze taking in her face. He loves to look at her when she's aroused. Her face flushed and lips parted, the way they are now. She opens her eyes and they're nearly black with desire. He lets his hand drift up over her stomach, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. He brushes his palm over a pebbled nipple and watches as her eyes darken even further and her tongue tease over her lower lip.

"Tell me what you want," he growls.

Sophia hooks her leg over his hip, molding herself to him. Her eyes narrow and her tongue darts out over her lips again. "Fuck me. _Now_."

His eyes widen slightly, then his mouth catches hers in a hard, wet kiss. God, the woman still surprises him. But he doesn't want to wait anymore either, so he's gonna do as she demands.

Keeping her arms pinned over her head, he uses his other hand to yank his jeans down enough to free himself. And then he's burying himself in her tight heat. A long, low groan escapes him as he thrusts into her, his hand on her hip holding her steady.

"Yes," she moans, tensing her leg around his waist. "Oh, yes..."

He finally releases her wrists to tangle his fingers in her hair. Their mouths meet and break away in panting, half kisses as they grind into each other. Her hands dig into his shoulders, urging him on.

"I want to feel you come around me," he breathes, his eyes meeting hers again. "Come for me, Sophia. Come for me now."

His hips pick up speed and he feels her start to clench around him. She shudders, her body flexing around him, arcing away from the door and into his arms as she cries out his name.

Another thrust and his own orgasm is crashing into him, weakening his knees and stealing his breath. He collapses against her, wrapping his arm around her waist to keep them upright against the door.

"Don't lose this outfit, babe," he murmurs as he kisses her neck. Trying to catch his breath before he whispers in her ear. "I kinda like it."


	18. Shower

A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the long delay between posts! I hope it's worth the wait! :)

Thanks much to twitter friend TLOGirl for her beta read through! She was very helpful in getting some of the kinks worked out!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything Supernatural. Just for fun!

Shower

Sophia slips under the just-shy-of-boiling water with a sigh and closes the dirty white shower curtain behind her. It's not often she gets a really hot shower in these cheap motels they stay at, so when she gets the opportunity, she takes it.

Bowing her head, she lets the hot water wash down her back, easing the muscles knotted in her shoulders. Her eyes slip closed as she melts under the water with a sigh. After a few moments, she grabs a washcloth, squeezes some of her favorite citrus scented body wash on it and lathers it up.

She's just starting to wash when suddenly the shower curtain is whipped aside. She manages not to shriek, but she does suck in a surprised gasp as she drops the washcloth from nerveless fingers.

"Damn it, Dean!" she growls as she snatches her washcloth from the tub floor. "You scared the bejesus out of me!"

Dean climbs into the tub with her, snaking the shower curtain back into place. A cocky smirk is firmly in place on his handsome face. He snags the dripping, soapy washcloth from her hands and slides it along her collarbone.

"What's the matter, babe?" he snickers. "You think you were about to be in a scene from Psycho?"

She frowns at him, trying to ignore the slow movements of the cloth over her chest. And trying to ignore the fact that she had Dean Winchester naked in her shower. Right. Like that's gonna happen.

"I was trying to have a nice, hot shower," she says sulkily. "What do you want?"

He slides the cloth down over her belly. "You," he replies with a shrug. The flame in his eyes gives lie to the matter of factness of his tone.

She shivers lightly despite the heat of the water. Trying to maintain a stern attitude, she mumbles, "But..." Her protest dissolves when he kneels in front of her and props one of her feet on the edge of the tub.

He runs the still sudsy cloth down over her thigh and calf, following it with his free hand. His hand is warm and slick on her soapy skin. He swaps out one leg for the other, this time propping her foot on his thigh. "You were saying?"

She bites back a moan, her fingers flexing on the shower wall. She looks down at him, watching as he caresses her. Her knees melt a little when he raises his head and their eyes meet. She loves the way he looks at her.

"I was trying to be mad at you for scaring me," she replies with a hint of a pout.

He snickers. "How's that working out for you?" he asks as he runs the washcloth between her thighs, his fingers just brushing her core.

She sucks in a deep breath. "What?"

He stands, the cocky grin even wider now. "That's what I thought..." he says just before his mouth captures hers.

Sophia opens her mouth with a soft moan, not bothering to keep up the pretense of being angry. Her tongue slips against his eagerly as she presses her body closer. Her still soapy skin glides over his, adding another layer of delicious sensation.

After kissing her until they're both breathless, he sweeps down her neck to her collarbone. Following the line across her chest, he nips and licks at her wet skin as his hands smooth down the small of her back and over her bottom.

She leans into him, backing him into the tile, molding her body over his. He hisses through his teeth as his warm skin comes into contact with the cool tiles, only to hum his satisfaction as she slides her thigh up to his hip.

Grinding slowly against him, she feels his hard length twitch against her stomach. Her wicked smile is lost against his neck as she bites at the pulse flickering there. Shifting slightly, she kisses her way down over his chest, tongue flicking over his nipple. The groan she feels rumbling in his chest sends heat flowing through her.

As her mouth continues its tour of his chest, her hands find other things to do. The muscles of his stomach tighten as she strokes over it before moving down over his hips. God, she loves touching him. Loves the way his skin feels under her hands. The way his muscles tighten and release.

When one hand closes around his velvety smooth hardness, he gasps and his hips jerk toward her. She looks up at him with a sly grin. "Turnabout _is_ fair play, isn't it, darlin'?"

Dean snorts, his fingers tightening on her bottom, keeping her close. "You're gonna find out...darlin'," he mumbles as he flips their positions, his solid body heavy and demanding on hers. His mouth finds the same pulsepoint on her neck she had found on him moments before and he sucks at it roughly as he cups her breast.

She moans softly, arching into his hand. The combination of his mouth on her throat and his fingers twirling her now pebbled nipple is nearly overwhelming. She clutches at his shoulders as she moves against him. "More," she sighs, her eyes drifting half shut.

He kisses his way down her chest, licking at the droplets of water sliding down the valley between her breasts. His fingers tease her other breast as his mouth finds its mate. Hot kisses burn along the underside, making her whimper. He takes his time exploring her skin, tongue swirling, mouth suckling.

When he finally pulls her almost painfully tight nipple into his mouth, her knees give way at the same time as her back arches toward him. His arm around her waist keeps her in place, wringing a soft moan from her as he continues his assault.

Finally, she can take no more of the exquisite torture, and she tangles her fingers in his hair, tugging him back up to her. He resists a bit, then releases her breast with a soft pop. Breathing heavily, she pulls his mouth to hers, hungry and desperate.

Their tongues tangle, giving and taking, hot and wet. Their hands are as restless and seeking as their mouths. Water slick skin yields smoothly under heated caresses. It's not close to enough and yet nearly too much all at the same time.

"Want you," she whimpers. She writhes beneath him, completely lost in the sensations. Lost in her desire for him. "Please, Dean."

Kissing his way to her ear, Dean sucks the lobe into his mouth as he slips one hand down over her body. Skimming past her belly, he dips between her thighs, fingers moving long and slow over her slick center.

With a low moan, he murmurs, "So wet for me. I love how hot you get, baby."

His tantalizing fingers push her even closer to the edge and her hips rotate against his hand, searching for the rhythm that will bring her release.

"Huh uh," he says, stilling her hips.

She whines loudly, reaching for his wrist, trying to drag his hand back to her. "Fuck," she mumbles, "so close."

Dean shifts against her, pulling her thigh up to his hip, then her leg around his waist. "Not yet. I want to be inside you first." Before she has a chance to respond, he's pressing inside her, slow and even.

"Ahhhhh," she cries, her head falling back to the wall as he fills her. "Yes, yes, God, yes."

His hands squeeze her hips, holding her in place as he starts to move. His mouth finds hers, catching the little half sobs escaping her with each thrust.

Sophia's fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scraping over his skin. Tension coils in her belly and lower. She feels like she's on fire. And each move he makes just adds to the flames.

Shallow and then deep. Slow then fast. He torments them with his pace. Taking them to them to the peak, then drawing back before they can fall over. His breath grows ragged, his movements beginning to lose their smooth control.

"Nownownownownow..." she keens, the words running together into a long moan as she grinds against him. Her hands skate down over his back to dig into his bottom, urging him forward. Her body clenches around him, demanding release.

Dean surges against her, murmuring her name, shifting just enough to find the sweet spot that sends her orgasm throbbing through her. Her body bowing, she cries out, shuddering as the climax overtakes her.

Still trembling, she hangs onto his arms as he thrusts deeply one more time and finds his own peak. He collapses onto her, somehow managing to hold them both up. Dropping his forehead against hers, he kisses the tip of her nose as he tries to catch his breath.

Wrapping her arms around him, she nuzzles her face into his neck, shivering as the aftershocks roll through her.

Dean straightens and pulls her under the now barely warm water, hands drifting over her, soft and soothing. "Still mad at me for scaring you?" he asks with a grin.

She giggles, looking up at him through her lashes. "Maybe you should take me to bed and find out," she says as she runs a finger down his chest.

He snorts and helps her out of the shower, shutting off the water as he does.

"And by the way, Winchester, I don't remember _any_ scenes like that in Psycho."


	19. Coming Home

A/N: Yeah, I know, another installment so soon? ;) I'd started this one some time ago, but wasn't sure what to do with it. Then I'd had a couple of suggestions from regular readers (ummm, Natali!) about slowing things down a little, so I decided this might work! It's a long one, so I hope you don't mind! I have another "slow burn" in the works for this series also. :)

Shameless plug: I'm about to launch another story to introduce an OC for Sam, so I'm hoping you'll come along for that ride too! Keep an eye out!

Thanks for the support and beta efforts of **TLOgirl**! She's also an SPN writer who's just posted her first chapter of her first story! Please go check it out and show her some review love!

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing related to Supernatural.

Coming Home

Sophia picks up her phone for the tenth time in the last hour. Then puts it back for the tenth time.

She shakes her head and goes back to the book she's been trying to read for the last hour. Realizing a lost cause when she sees it, she gets up from her chair and stretches. Swinging open the master bedroom's french doors, she steps out onto the balcony and draws a deep breath.

The air is crisp, but not cold; a beautiful early fall night. A nearly full moon lights the backyard and reflects off the pond below. The silence is broken only by the frogs and crickets. There's something soothing about the cool air and night sounds. She leans against the railing, closing her eyes briefly.

Dean and Sam left last night for a hunt. Brother time. She had encouraged them. Told them not to worry about her, she'd catch up on her reading or something. And she'd been serious. They should have time together. But she misses Dean. A lot.

She sighs heavily. There's no real reason she can't call him to check in. To tell him goodnight. She wouldn't be some kind of clingy, meddling girlfriend to want to make sure all went well today. Would she? Considering the dangerous nature of their "job," a little worry is perfect natural. Right?

Dropping her head into her hands, she chuckles softly. She's losing it. Starting to sound like a fourteen year old girl considering calling the cute boy in her class. But she still doesn't go inside for the phone.

She's not sure how long she's been standing out there when the phone rings. She practically runs back into the bedroom and snatches the phone from the nightstand. The AC/DC ringtone tells her who it is without having to check the caller id.

"Hey," she says, slightly breathless. Why is her heart pounding?

"Hey, babe," Dean replies. She can hear the smile in his voice. "Everything OK there?"

She takes the phone outside and curls up on one of the chairs, trying to put her heart back in its normal rhythm. "Yeah, everything's great here," she says, the words spilling out. "Been busy, you know. Catching up on things, cleaning up, baking. You know, the usual." She cringes inwardly, knowing she's babbling.

He chuckles. "Well, good to hear. Not missing me then, huh?"

She snorts and covers her rollicking emotions with sarcasm. "Oh, you've been gone?"

He laughs again, but she knows she's not fooling him for a second. "Well, I've missed you," he says with that ridiculously smoky voice. His bedroom voice.

Her toes curl in response. "Oh..." she says, breathless again. Clearing her throat, she murmurs, "I've missed you too."

"I know," he replies and this time she can hear the smirk.

She sighs softly and decides to change the subject before this goes any further south. "So how did it go today? Make any progress?"

"Not too bad. Looks like we've got a vengeful spirit."

They discuss the case for several minutes and Sophia offers up a few avenues of investigation for them. When Dean yawns for the second time, she says, rather reluctantly, "I should let you go. Sounds like you need to get some sleep."

His voice is rough again when he replies. "Nah, it's OK. I'm not gonna get much sleep tonight anyway."

"Why not? Sammy snoring again?"

"No, not this trip," he says with a snicker. There's a long pause before he finally says, "I can't sleep without you anymore."

She sucks in a breath, heart stuttering again. "I...um...I've been sleeping in your Led Zepplin t-shirt. It smells like you."

After a few seconds of silence, Dean growls softly and says, "We'll be home tomorrow night. Late."

"But, Dean, you've only been gone a day and you still have to find the spirit."

"We'll find it tomorrow and take care of it. But I'm coming home tomorrow night."

She tries again. "And you're supposed to be having brother time with Sam. You shouldn't rush it. I'm fine here." She hopes she's successful at keeping the wistful note from her voice.

"Sophia," he murmurs, a thread of steel in his voice, "two days is plenty of brother time."

"I just don't want you to..." She stops.

"You don't want me to what, babe?"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to be with me every minute," she mumbles. "And I don't want to come between you and Sam."

It's his turn to sigh. "Babe," he says, voice soothing her, "I _want_ to be with you, not have to be. And you've brought Sam and I closer together."

Her voice is small when she replies. "Are you sure?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I'm sure. Would you stop worrying so much?"

"Uh huh, I'll get right on that," she replies. "So you'll let me know when you think you'll be home?"

"Yeah, I'll call you when we get on the road."

"Alright." She pauses, then continues, her voice soft. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you. Get some rest."

"Uh huh," he says. Then, "And, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you have that t-shirt on, huh?"

She giggles and hangs up the phone without answering. She sits on the balcony a little while longer before returning to the bedroom, changing into Dean's t-shirt and snuggling into bed.

~~~SPN~~~

It's after 2AM when Dean finally lets himself into the house. He tries to be quiet so as to not wake Sophia. He peeks into the living room and finds her curled up on the sofa. After taking off his jacket and tossing it on a chair, he kneels next to her.

He watches her for a few minutes, just taking her in. There's just enough light from the lamp on the other side of the room to see her clearly. It's only been two days, but it was the longest two days of his life. He had no idea he'd miss her so much when she suggested this little "brotherly bonding" trip. When she told him last night she was sleeping in his shirt because it smelled like him, he knew he needed to be here. With her.

His hand is gentle on her cheek as he murmurs her name, not wanting to startle her.

Her eyes flutter open slowly and her gaze focuses on him. Recognition brings a heart-stopping smile to her face as she sits up.

"Dean," she breathes and leans over to wrap her arms around his neck, nuzzling in close.

He slips his arms around her in return, one hand cradling the back of her neck. He buries his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. Savoring the feel of her sleep-warmed body against his, he kisses her temple. "God, I missed you," he whispers, tightening his hold on her.

She kisses his throat, moving up to his ear. "I missed you, too. So much." Pulling away so she can see his face, she says, "I know you were supposed to be having brother time, but is it wrong that I'm glad you're back?"

Dean laughs, pressing a kissing to her forehead. "I'd think there was something wrong if you _weren't_ glad I'm back."

She giggles a little at that, then looks down, apparently just realizing he's still kneeling on the floor. "Good lord, your knees must be killing you! Get up here on the sofa!" She tugs at him, shifting to the side, so he can sit next to her, before curling up in his lap.

As she settles in, he notices what she's wearing. "Nice shirt," he says, plucking at the front of his faded Led Zepplin t-shirt. "I think it looks better on you than it ever did on me."

She blushes slightly before hiding her face in his neck. "I told you, it smells like you. It helped me sleep."

He trails his fingers down over the bare skin of her thigh left exposed by the shirt. Feeling her shiver, he cups behind her knee, then eases his hand up the back of her thigh, stopping at her hip. "I gotta tell ya, babe, you in this shirt is not making me the least bit sleepy."

Sophia lifts her head, brushing her lips gently across his. "When was the last time you slept?"

Slipping his other hand around the back of her neck, he pulls her back to him, capturing her mouth with his own. His tongue slides along her bottom lip, gently dipping inside when she opens to him. He kisses her slowly, but greedily. Kissing her is definitely on his list of favorite things. From the moment they met and she skewered him with that saucy mouth, he's never stopped wanting to kiss her.

One hand fisting in his t-shirt, Sophia's other hand whispers over his cheek then back around his head. After what seems like an eternity, she breaks the kiss, breathing hard. Her eyes are a little glazed when they meet his, but she shakes it off and mumbles, "Don't think I forgot you didn't answer me."

He chuckles and places soft kisses along her jaw and back to her ear. "We can both sleep when I'm done making love to you," he murmurs huskily, causing another shiver as his breath drifts across her ear.

Her breath hitches and she swallows hard as he licks at her throat and his wandering hand slides further under the t-shirt. "You're sure you're not too tired?" she breathes. Her own hands move under the fabric of his shirt to graze his stomach.

"Mmmm," he purrs, shifting her slightly on his lap so she can feel how hard he is for her already. "I'm very, very sure, sweetheart."

With some soft nudges, he turns her to straddle his lap, groaning as she settles against him. He can feel her heat already, and can't think of anything he'd like better than to bury himself in it, but he sucks in a deep breath and focuses on her. He wants to make this last. Wants to show her how much he loves her. How much he needs her.

Pulling away, he catches her gaze with his own. Her eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as she looks at him, a soft smile tilting the corners of her mouth. He reaches to stroke her cheek, watching as she catches her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it lightly. "What?" he asks as something hesitant skips across her face.

She turns her face into his palm, her eyes drifting shut. She shakes her head slightly, and starts tugging his shirt up.

"Sophia," he coaxes, cupping her face in both hands, trying to get her to look at him again.

Reluctantly, she opens her eyes, but she stares at his mouth instead of meeting his gaze. "It's nothing," she mumbles, shaking her head again.

He draws her toward him, kissing her softly. "Tell me."

Her hands nervously fiddle with the hem of his shirt. "It's just..." She swallows and shivers slightly. "When you look at me like that..."

"When I look at you like what?" he asks, pressing little kisses on her chin, then her nose, then her cheeks as his hands curl around the back of her head.

Her voice is not so hesitant now, but rather tinged with a little awe. "Like I'm a gift. Something precious."

Dean sucks in a breath, freezing. Their eyes meet at last and both are still, letting the moment settle around them. "You are a gift," he says finally, voice soft. "And every day I wonder how I got so damned lucky."

"I love you," she says fiercely, before catching his mouth with her own. It's hot and demanding, but still somehow sweet. She tugs again on his shirt, dragging it up and off, only breaking the kiss to allow the soft cotton to slip between them. Sucking at his bottom lip, she presses him back into the cushions again, her warm hands moving all over his now bare skin.

Not to be left behind, he lets his hands drift further up under her shirt, finding her breasts and cupping them gently. Taking an already pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he twirls it lightly, catching her moan with his mouth.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he kisses his way back down her jaw and her neck, growling when he hits the neck of the t-shirt. He leans back, dropping his hands to her hips, smirking a little at her disappointed whimper.

"Take it off," he says, his voice rough with desire.

Catching his eyes, she sits back on his lap and reaches for the hem. Slowly, so very slowly, she pulls it up, revealing herself to his heated gaze. At last, she yanks it over her head and tosses it to the floor.

His eyes drift over her before his hands follow suit. They move over her taut belly, around her ribs, then to palm her breasts. Slipping his hands around her back, he arches her toward him as his mouth wanders along her collarbone, then down the valley between her breasts.

"Dean," she whimpers, clinging to his biceps, then his shoulders as he teases her.

As he presses between her shoulders, she arches closer, her head tipping back. Placing wet kisses along the swell of her breast, he moans softly as he catches her nipple in his mouth. Sucking lightly, he slides one hand down to the small of her back, making her rock against him.

He pays equal attention to her other breast, alternating sucking kisses with tiny nips and licks. His hands drift along the warm skin of her back then down over bottom. He revels in the panting moans he wrings from her. He lives to hear those sounds. To hear her pleasure. Her desire.

Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulls his head away and back up to her mouth. Their kiss is searing. Their tongues tangle and dance as they come together and break apart, breath coming in little gasps.

"I want a turn," she murmurs, again pushing him back into the sofa. Her mouth is hot and wet on his skin as she follows a path down his chest. Her tongue draws lazy circles around his nipples as her hands slide down his waist and over his denim clad hips.

Dean groans as her teeth scrape over one nipple. His hands move to cup her bottom, holding her to him as he shifts restlessly under her tormenting mouth and hands.

When she kisses her way back up to his mouth, her hips rocking urgently against his, he moves to settle her beneath him. They both sigh softly as their fevered skin touches.

"I want to be inside you," he rasps, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of her panties. He groans heavily as he finds her soaking wet core. "I need to feel you around me."

She pants as she moves with his touch. "Please," she whimpers in reply, her nails raking down his back. "Want you so much."

Standing, he quickly strips off his remaining clothes. He stops for a moment, staring down at her, naked but for her panties, skin flushed pink. Her tongue flicks over her kiss-swollen lips as she gazes up at him.

As he watches, she raises her hips and slides her panties down, kicking them off when they reach her feet. She lets one leg fall off the edge of the sofa and presses the other into the cushions, opening herself to him. Her gaze is dark with desire as she reaches for him.

Dean tangles his fingers with hers, allowing her to draw him back down to her. He sinks down into the cradle of her hips, but doesn't press inside her yet. Taking her other hand, he pushes both arms back over her head, fingers tightly intertwined. As he shifts his hips, he pauses, waiting for her to look at him.

"I love you," he whispers hotly, holding her gaze as he slides slowly inside her. He bites his lip and his eyes slam shut as she closes around him, hot and slick.

Sophia arches to meet him, using her foot on the floor as leverage. "Oh, God, Dean..."

He releases her hands and she wraps her arms around him. He moves against her, slow and even, stretching his control to the very limit. She feels so good around him, he can hardly breathe. Then she wraps her legs around his waist, and he thinks for a moment he might lose his mind.

"God, baby, you feel so good," he says, his hips jerking as she moves beneath him. "Easy...I can't..."

She shakes her head, pulling him closer, fingernails digging into his back. "No, no...more...please Dean...more."

Feeling her body clench around him, he groans and submits, unable to resist her. He picks up his pace, thrusting erratically as his mouth finds hers. Hot, half kisses punctuate their movements as they rock toward the edge of the abyss. His hands drag along her thighs to her hip, fingers digging into the skin as he lifts her to him.

Dean buries his head in her neck as he surges into her. "Love you love you love you..." he repeats desperately as he struggles to let her come first. Feeling the first trembles of her orgasm, he lifts her hips toward him, surging deeper.

She cries out his name as she succumbs to her climax. Her back arches and her legs tighten around him as she shudders.

Her heat and the rhythmic flex of her body around his own is too much and he falls right behind her with another heavy groan, collapsing in her arms.

As his breathing slows, he rolls off her, but keeps her snuggled tightly against him. He strokes her hair with one hand as the other smooths down her body. He feels her kiss his chest, then feels her smile against his skin.

She shivers slightly as the light sheen of sweat on her body cools in the darkness, so Dean pulls the afghan off the back of the sofa down over them, tucking her in.

They lay there in silence for some time. He knows she's not asleep yet. Finally, he asks, "You alright, babe?"

She sighs softly, then shifts so she can look up at him. He's not sure if the shine in her eyes is from the moonlight or something else and he panics slightly. "Sophia? What is it... Is everything..." He can't seem to complete the thought.

She stops his rambling with a finger across his lips, followed by a deep kiss. "I've never been better. Ever," she whispers. The smile she gives him now is even more breathtaking than the one she gave him when she woke up and he relaxes instantly.

"Don't scare me like that," he grumbles against her lips.

She giggles, and the joy in it nearly shatters his heart. "You can't blame a girl for getting all emotional after you rock her world like that, you know."

He can't stop the cocky smirk that crosses his face. "I'll remember that the next time."

She rolls her eyes and shoves at him before settling back against him with a sigh and a yawn. "There's not room on this couch for you _and _your ego, Winchester."

Chuckling, he snuggles back into the cushions and closes his eyes. "You know you love me."

Sophia's voice is serious when she replies, "More than you'll ever know."


	20. Always

A/N: Hi again! I found this one in the archives and it really spoke to me. I've done a couple things with making up, but this one has a slightly different feel to it, so I decided to go with it. I hope you enjoy! Remember, reviews are love! :)

Special thanks to **TLOGirl** for the beta read and excellent edits! She's a writer also and has just finished up her first story! Go check her out!

Also, a special shout-out to **dharmamonkey**, who knows good smut, um, I mean _art_, when she reads it and is an endless supply of steamy inspiration! Thanks for the support, m'dear! :)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything Supernatural related, I just like to borrow Dean for fun...

Always

"No, stop, I'm done. I can't talk about this with you anymore." She moves to the back door.

His sharp intake of breath stops her.

"I thought we said no more leaving," he whispers, defeated.

She doesn't turn around, she can't. "I'm not leaving, I'm just going outside. I won't leave the yard." Her voice is still tight with anger.

He doesn't reply, so she slips out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

He doesn't move from his spot near the sink. They'd promised each other no more running away. And she wasn't. But why did the sight of her walking away hurt just as much?

~~~SPN~~~

She doesn't wander too far. Just down to the pond. Twilight is settling in and the fading sun casts a faint glow on everything. With a deep sigh, she drops to the ground, knees up, arms wrapped around them.

God, she hates fighting with him. Loves the way they tease and bicker. Loves how passionate they are about what they do. But she truly hates fighting with him. She had promised him some time ago she wouldn't run out again. And she hasn't. But sometimes someone needs to walk away; before someone says something they can't take back. Tonight, that someone is her.

And yet, walking away from him was somehow worse than running. Deliberately turning her back on him felt wrong. She heaves another sigh. Tears she can't seem to hold back trickle down her cheeks.

It's ridiculous really. Now that she's sitting out here, she can barely remember what they were fighting about. She doesn't know who was right or who was wrong. She's just hurt.

Her hands rub her bare legs. Evenings are still cool, although the days are quite warm. She knows she should go back inside. The mosquitoes are liable to eat her alive. She should go back inside and apologize. For whatever they were fighting about. For walking away. For a lot of things.

She remains seated. She rests her cheek on her knees and closes her eyes. Lets the tears drip down. Allows the peaceful evening to wash over her. Listens to the cicadas making their evening call. The frogs join in. The cacophony is soothing to her heart.

~~~SPN~~~

It's several minutes before Dean manages to uproot himself. He moves to the door. He can't help but look for her. Make sure she's really there. Make sure she's safe.

He watches her drop to the ground near the lake, arms wrapped around herself. He wants to go to her. To wrap his arms around her. Tell her everything is going to be okay. Instead, he sighs.

He really hates fighting with her. Now the arguing and bickering is totally hot. Two passionate people together, sparks flying. It's amazing. But fighting...iIt makes him afraid. Afraid they're going to fight one too many times. Afraid she'll decide the good stuff doesn't outweigh the bad.

Hands sliding around his neck, he bows his head. To be honest, he doesn't even know what they were fighting about. Not really. And yet somehow, it was so important, it sent her out the door. Away from him. Even if only into the backyard.

Looking back out at her, he sees her shiver, rubbing her bare legs. He snags a light blanket from the back of the sofa.

~~~SPN~~~

So lost is she in her thoughts, she doesn't hear him approach. She starts slightly when he drapes the blanket around her shoulders. The gesture warms her more than the blanket.

She expects him to sit, but she hears his footsteps walking away instead. "Wait," she murmurs. She turns slightly, reaching her hand out behind her. Toward him. He takes it. It feels warm and solid in her own. She tugs at him, nodding her head at the spot next to her.

He sits, eyes on the pond. Watching the lightening bugs wink over the water. The sun dipping into the horizon. He doesn't release her hand. Instead, he raises it to his lips, kissing the back of it lightly.

"I'm sorry." In unison. Soft laughter drifts on the air, breaking the tension.

She watches his profile. The fading light highlights his features, nearly taking her breath away. His thumb strokes her palm and she shivers again. Not from the cold this time.

"Do you remember what we were fighting about?" Her voice is soft now, relaxed.

He shakes his head, looking down at her hand. "Not really."

She scoots closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Me neither." She sighs softly. "And yet, somehow it was important enough for me to turn my back on you. To walk away."

He lifts a shoulder. "Just outside."

A rueful smile curves her lips. "Doesn't make it any better. Doesn't make it _feel_ any better." She presses a kiss to his shoulder. "I realized something while I was sitting out here."

He looks down at her. She looks beautiful bathed in the last rays of the setting sun. Glowing. "What's that?"

"I love you anyway. In spite of everything. Maybe because of everything. Even when you piss me off. I love you always."

She gets to her knees, slipping off the blanket. She straddles him, seating herself on his lap, facing him. She takes his face in her hands as his arms slip around her, holding her close.

"I love you," she whispers. She presses gentle kisses to his lips.

He leans forward to capture her mouth in a deeper kiss. It's long, slow, soft. Tender and full of feeling.

He pulls away to look in her eyes. "Always."

~~~SPN~~~

She gets to her feet, holding out her hand to him. She pulls him to his feet, tangling her fingers with his. She starts back to the house, tugging him along with her.

Back inside, he flips the locks on the doors and turns off the lights. It's still early, but he doesn't have any intentions of coming back downstairs tonight. Not once he gets her in bed.

They walk slowly up the stairs, hand in hand. Quiet. Once in the bedroom, she moves for the bed, but he tugs her to a stop.

"I want to undress you."

His husky voice is nearly her undoing. She loves his voice. Could listen to him talk forever. And in the bedroom? Sometimes she thinks he could make her come just talking to her.

She moves in front of him. Waits for him. She generally prefers to be in control of whatever situation she's in. With him, though, she feels safe enough to let go. She trusts him to take care of her.

His fingers carefully undo the buttons on her shirt and push it from her shoulders. He then moves to her shorts, unsnapping them and kneeling in front of her to slide them down her legs.

Stepping back, he stares at her for a moment. Moonlight streams through the windows, caressing her body. She's wearing one of those ridiculous bras he loves, lacy and sweet and disarmingly sexy. Her panties are the little boy shorts he also loves, particularly from behind. She captivates him. Like no other woman before her, she pulls him in, holds him.

She shivers under the heat of his gaze. It's a heady combination of adoration and hunger. It sends heat pooling in the pit of her stomach and lower. It fills her heart. It tempts her to throw herself in his arms. But she remains where she is, wanting to let him to set the pace this time.

He finally touches her, stroking his hands up both her arms. Lightly, just whispering over her skin. Her whimper hits him square in the gut. He steps closer, feels the heat radiating from her. Reaching behind her, he unhooks her bra and drops it to the floor with the rest of her clothes.

His hands slide silkily over her collarbone and down over her chest. He cups one breast, thumb stroking across her nipple. He watches as her eyes float closed and she bites her lip. She leans into his hand, clenching her fists.

Moving away, his warm hands glide over her ribs, down around her narrow waist to rest on her hips.

"Open your eyes," he murmurs.

Her eyes flutter open, dark with desire. They meet his without hesitation. She licks her lips, blinks slowly. He momentarily considers taking her right there, on the floor by the bed. She's intoxicating.

Sucking in a deep breath, he struggles for control. They haven't even gotten started yet. He holds her gaze as his fingers slip under the lacy edge of her panties. Tracing the line of her hip, he watches as her eyes glaze over, unfocused.

His fingers meet in the middle, just grazing the edge of her heated center. He sees her stomach muscles tremble. Her breath quickens.

"Dean..." she breathes, reaching for his wrist. "Please..."

"Oh, baby," he whispers, running his thumb over her full bottom lip, "we've barely even started..." A wicked grin tilts up the corner of his mouth only to disappear in swift gasp as her tongue flicks out over the pad of his thumb.

With a growl, he drags his t-shirt over his head, wanting to feel her skin against his. With the barrier out of the way, he hauls her against his chest. His turn to bite his lip, grasping again for control as the feel of her warm skin nearly undoes him. His hands roam over her shoulders, her back, pressing her tightly to him.

She nearly purrs at the feel of his hot, hard body on hers. Her arms wrap around him, slipping over his back. Her foot twines around his calf, trying to get closer. Her lips skim lightly over his chest, tongue darting out to taste. Up on tiptoe, she finds the pulse at his throat. A caress of her tongue, a nip of her teeth, a little suction. A smile curves her mouth at his harsh groan, and she feels his hands tighten on her bottom.

Without warning, she finds herself back flat on her feet, a step away from him. She shivers as the cooler air of the room brushes her over-heated skin. Her eyes fly to his, looking for explanation. What she sees there steals her breath. His eyes are almost black with desire and his jaw is tight. His nostrils flare with each heavy breath. He looks like he could devour her whole. He looks dangerous. And undeniably the sexiest thing she's ever seen.

He undoes his jeans, never taking his eyes from her. Slides them off, kicks them away. Tipping his head toward it, he says, "Bed."

It takes her a second to respond. She's so wrapped up in his gaze, she finds it difficult to draw breath, let alone process words. But she recovers herself, stepping back to the bed. She yanks the covers off, leaving them in a heap on the end of the bed. She lays down on the cool sheets, but they do nothing to quench the fire raging through her body. Her fingers scrape against the sheet, itching to be touching him instead.

Dean lays down next to her, still in his boxer briefs, but doesn't touch her immediately. When she rolls to face him, he takes her hand, uncurling her clenched fingers, kissing her palm, then each finger in turn. His foot rubs her calf, echoing her earlier gesture. His gaze narrows on her mouth. Her lips are parted, her breathing heavy. He wants desperately to plunder her hot mouth, but he's afraid his tattered control will break.

Seeing his eyes land on her mouth, she unconsciously licks her lips. She hears his growl a split second before his mouth is fused to hers. She realizes dimly this is the first time he's kissed her since they came inside. The fire already burning her alive flashes over and she gasps in his mouth.

Tongues tangle, restless and eager. He releases her fingers to cup her cheek, gently stroking her cheekbone as he kisses her. Unable to resist the sweet temptation of her skin on his, he rolls to his back, pulling her over him. His fingers tangle in her hair, holding her in place as he breaks the kiss to explore her jaw. His teeth nip at her earlobe and he feels her hands tighten on his waist, before they slide up to twist in his hair.

"Dean..." she says on a gasp as he places sucking kisses on her throat and the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Her head lolls to the side, inviting his continued attention.

He moves his hands to her ribs, sliding her over him. Her hands land on the bed next to his head, supporting her weight. Her arms almost give out when she feels his mouth on her breast, suckling. She closes her eyes on a breathy moan, arching into the warm heat of his mouth. She's already so wound up, the sensation is nearly overwhelming. And when his tongue swirls against her nipple, she's sure she's going to come apart into a million pieces.

"God, Dean, I can't..." she moans, writhing against him. His mouth is driving her absolutely crazy. Combined with his roving hands, she's rapidly approaching the edge. "Please...I want..."

He slides her back down, catching her mouth with his. "What do you want?" he murmurs against her lips. His hands cup her bottom, rocking her against him.

She slides over his chest, wanting to torment him as he's tormented her. Wanting him to be just as turned on and out of control as she is. "I want you," she whispers. Her tongue glides over his smooth skin. Her teeth scrape over his nipple, her tongue soothing right behind it. She feels his sharp inhale, feels his hands tighten on her hips. She looks up at him. "You like that, baby?" she murmurs huskily.

She doesn't wait for his answer, but continues teasing over his skin. His stomach ripples under her mouth as she lazily slides her tongue around his navel. She grumbles lightly as she reaches the interruption presented by his underwear. She starts to slip them down, her tongue following, but he grabs her arms and drags her back up.

"Oh no you don't," he rasps as he flips her beneath him. "I wouldn't last through five seconds of that."

She chuckles breathlessly. "I wanted you to..." She pauses to kiss his broad shoulder. "To feel as wild as I do right now." Her hands slide under the band of his underwear, drawing him closer, her fingers flexing on the muscles of his bottom.

He growls, surging against her. She arches to meet him, echoing the dance she hopes they'll be engaged in sooner rather than later.

His teeth nip her earlobe. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Her lips hovering over his ear, she whispers, "Dripping."

He freezes for just a second in shock. Reaching for her panties, he mumbles, "Jesus, babe, keep talking like that and I'm not gonna make it to home plate."

She snickers, lifting her hips as he pulls off her panties. Her amusement turns to a soft moan as his fingers find her center.

"You weren't kidding..."

She nearly chokes, torn between laughter and desire. Of their own accord, her hips rock against his hand.

His fingers tease her mercilessly, but stop just shy of her orgasm. She groans her disappointment when he moves his hand, then moans again when he moves off her to strip off his underwear.

He settles in the cradle of her hips, biting his lip as he slides inside her. She's hot and slick and tight around him and she's killing him. Her eyes snap shut and her head falls back, opening her neck to his mouth. He buries his face in her throat, lips moving over the soft skin. Hand sliding over her thigh, he pulls it up over his hip, fingers digging in as he sinks further in her.

She arches under him, meeting his thrusts, rocking against him, pulling him in. His mouth on her neck is driving her mad. Her fingers clutch on his back, fingernails digging in as she struggles to get closer. "Yes, yes, yes," she chants.

He can feel the tremors starting, letting him know she's close. Her voice pitches up as she whispers his name. He shifts against her, finding just the right spot. "I love you," he whispers.

Her cry as she succumbs is muffled in his shoulder. He feels her body clench around him, throbbing. A few more thrusts and he's collapsing on her, breath harsh.

She holds him close as her breathing settles. She wraps her leg around his, keeping him in place. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she presses soft kisses on his neck. "I love you, too," she says, lips on his ear.

He rolls to his back, pulling her with him. She nuzzles into his side, fingers tracing lightly over his chest. He presses a kiss on the top of her head. "Always."


	21. Lucky

A/N: This one was inspired by...a pair of blue jeans. I own several pairs of the brand of jeans referred to in this little story, and they do, in fact, say what you read below... :) As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to work it into a Dean/Sophia Passion Play moment! Please enjoy and don't forget to hit that little review button at the bottom! Reviews are love!

Special thanks to **TLOGirl** for her wonderful beta skills and always kind feedback and support! She's just started a new Winchester story where the boys travel to New Orleans and it's a goodie! Go have a look!

Disclaimer: Blah blah, yeah, yeah, we all know the drill.

Lucky

Sophia leans back into the wall, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the slick wallpaper. Dean kisses his way down her neck, unbuttoning the buttons on her shirt as he goes.

They had barely made it through the door before Dean had pushed her against the motel room wall, mouth greedy and demanding. He'd been tormenting her all afternoon. Every time he looked at her, it was with a heavy lidded, hungry gaze, desire clear in his glowing green eyes.

"Are you trying to kill me with all these buttons?" he growls, fumbling with the last ones as his fingers brush the skin of her stomach.

"You love it and you know it," she breathes. "Besides, you were making me crazy all afternoon with those looks."

He shifts his eyes up to hers, but his hands keep moving over her soft skin, pushing the shirt off her shoulders to the floor. "Oh yeah? What looks?"

He's doing it again. "That look," she mumbles as her breath hitches at the heat in his eyes. "The one that was stripping me naked and ravishing me against the nearest available surface."

Chuckling, he moves to undo the front clasp on her bra before pushing it away. Her knees buckle a little as his hands drift over her breasts. "Ravishing, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he murmurs against her mouth, chuckling again when she groans and shivers beneath his touch.

"It's a technical term," she manages to gasp before his mouth closes over hers again. She's just as hungry as he is and her hands slide around his head to tug him closer as her tongue duels with his.

Dean leans into her then, pressing her flat against the wall and trapping her with the weight of his body. His hands seem to be everywhere. Touching, stroking, rubbing. Driving her absolutely mad.

Arching her body into his, she rubs their hips together, turning up the heat even further. Their mouths continue to devour each other as their breathing becomes heavier. Sophia shoves her hands under his t-shirt, wanting to feel bare skin. She glides up his back, then down, dragging her fingers along his spine, making him shiver.

All too soon, he drags his mouth from hers and moves down her body. His mouth is scorching over her skin and her eyes slip closed, focusing on the warmth flowing through her. Dropping to his knees in front of her, his tongue flickers across her stomach as his hands slide over her hips.

She squirms against him, struggling to hold back the plea she wants to make. When he's in one of these moods, her begging only encourages him. She hears her zipper slide down and just barely bites back a moan of anticipation. When she hears his laugh, however, she looks down at him.

He looks up at her, eyebrow raised, then back down at her jeans, a wicked grin on his face. "Lucky you?"

She giggles, realizing he's reading the words on the zipper placket of her new jeans. "Flip it open," she suggests, her own wicked grin in place.

He does and laughs again. "Lucky me."

"So, Winchester, am I gonna get lucky or what?"

"Maybe," he growls, sliding the edges of the jeans down very slowly. His tongue skims along her waist, swirling in her belly button, making her gasp. "I haven't decided yet."

Releasing her death grip on the wall, she tangles her fingers in his short hair. If he's going to torment her, she's going to return the favor. "Have I mentioned how sexy it is to see you on your knees like that?"

"I'll bet," he replies with a snort, not really taking the bait and instead inching her jeans down over her hips. His hands slip inside to cup her bottom, arching her toward him. He flicks his tongue over her already damp panties, weakening her knees again. "Have I mentioned how much it turns me on that I can make you this wet and I've barely even started?"

She shudders, trying not to melt into a puddle on the floor. "I'm almost naked and we're just inside the door. You call that barely started?"

His voice is the dark and smoky growl he saves just for her. "Oh, baby, I can promise you this is just the beginning." He draws her jeans slowly down her legs, caressing each bit of newly exposed skin as he goes. Removing the jeans and her shoes, he turns his attention back her body.

Not able to truly touch him, Sophia again reaches for the wall and the door frame, curling her fingers around it. Anything to hang onto as his mouth and hands threaten to generate enough heat to consume her.

Rough hands stroke her from her knees to her thighs to her hips. A hot mouth follows in their wake, tongue tickling and teasing. Breath flutters across her overheated skin, making her shiver. A thumb worries its way under the edge of her panties and she sucks in a breath. But the thumb just skims the crease of her thigh, rubbing circles ever so close to her core, but never touching it.

"Dean, please..." Forgetting her promise to herself, she begs for more. She feels like she might lose her mind if he keeps tormenting her this way.

His purring laugh makes her look down at him, barely able to focus. His eyes are dark as they glance up at her before dropping back to where his fingers continue their slow, grazing movements. "Please, what, sweetheart? I thought you wanted to get lucky."

Before she find words to reply, he's easing her panties down her legs, tossing them to the side after she steps out of them. And then he's looking up at her again, eyes catching hers as his hands move between her thighs, nudging them apart.

"I want to taste you," he murmurs, thumbs back to their distracting circling, this time on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. "I've been thinking about it all day. That's what I was thinking about every time I looked at you."

Biting her lip, she tries to keep her gaze on him as his thumbs lazily, but deliberately, circle upward. "Yes," she breathes, "yes, I...please...Dean..." For all their banter earlier, coherent thought now seems completely beyond her as he gently urges her thighs further apart.

At the first long swipe of his tongue, her eyes slam shut and she gasps, her hips jerking toward him. It's all she can do to keep her feet as her bones seem to melt under his deft stroking. Struggling for breath, her fingers tighten on the door frame. For a crazy, incoherent second, she wonders if she might pull it apart. The thought disappears almost instantly as Dean's hot mouth continues to devour her and she squirms, whether to avoid the torture or submit to it, she can't really tell.

She feels his hand slide up the back of her leg, urging it up over her shoulder, opening her even wider to his slick tongue. "Oh, God..." she moans heavily, her remaining knee weakening as she rocks against him. "Mmmm, so close...don't stop..."

Her back arches as one finger slips inside her, then two. She vaguely hears him murmuring her name, calling to her as his fingers coax her ever closer to a climax. Her hands tighten almost painfully on the door frame as she rolls her hips, finding a rhythm. Her breath comes in halting pants as wordless, keening sounds escape her.

The orgasm hits her like a freight train and she cries out his name as she arches her back, shuddering.

Dean's on his feet quickly, his arms circling her, holding her up. He presses soft kisses along her jaw as she pries her fingers from the wooden door frame. With a soft sigh, she loops her arms over his broad shoulders and buries her face in his neck.

His mouth drifts to her ear, his breath uneven. "You feelin' lucky yet, babe?"

She snickers and straightens, pushing him back. "Not even close," she says, continuing to push him back toward the bed. "Didn't you say something about this being just the beginning?"

The sexy grin he gives her sends heat flooding through her again. Stepping close, she reaches for the hem on his shirt, dragging it over his head. Ignoring the generous expanse of bare chest in front of her, she undoes his jeans, pulling them down then giving him a shove to make him sit on the edge of the bed.

Sophia kneels to unlace his boots, smacking him when he makes a comment about seeing her on her knees now. She makes quick work of the boots and the denim before climbing over him. He scoots back on the bed, his hands roaming over her hips and thighs, that naughty grin still on his lips.

"Whatcha got in mind, baby?" he asks, his voice practically smoldering now.

"Gonna have to wait and see," she purrs, running her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. She settles her hips against his, biting her lip as his hardness grinds against her still hypersensitive core. "But you're not gonna have to wait long."

Leaning down, her mouth finds his, hot and slow. Her hands drift to his waist as she leisurely explores his mouth. She feels his hands cupping her bottom and rolls her hips against his, forcing a groan from him.

She breaks the kiss and starts to move down over him. Nipping. Licking. Sucking. His skin is warm and slightly salty. She finds one lightly pebbled nipple and swirls her tongue around it. A soft purr rumbles in his chest, making her smile as she continues her attentions. Teeth join the tongue, scraping over the responsive skin.

Dean shifts under her, his hands tensing on her ribs, only to lose their grip as she slides further down. Her tongue is hot on his stomach, drawing teasing little circles as she strokes him through his boxer briefs. "God, baby..."

Another little smile drifts over her face. She whispers a breath over him through the now tight cotton. "Have I told you how much it turns me on that I can make you this hard?" she murmurs, turning his earlier words back on him.

A hissed breath answers her. "And you've barely started," he manages, his fingers digging into the sheets.

She chuckles and starts to ease down his underwear, exposing him to her avid gaze. The cotton briefs are quickly disposed of on the floor by the bed. Stroking him gently, fingers teasing, she settles between his thighs. Leaning over him, she lets her lips drift over the velvety smoothness, and feels him jerk beneath her.

Her hands drift to his hips, holding him in place as her mouth caresses him. He seems to grow even harder under her tongue and his heavy groans tell her she's doing something right. She wants him wild. She wants him shuddering with need. She wants him calling her name.

Dean's hips rock unevenly. "Sophia," he moans, his eyes closed, his voice hoarse with want. "Baby, please, I'm gonna..."

She slows her pace, then moves to kiss her way back up his body. He's breathing hard now, struggling for control. His eyes flutter open as she kisses him softly and she grins at him.

"You _are_ trying to kill me," he mumbles, reaching for her.

"Not until I'm done with you."

He gasps a half laugh as she grinds against him. "I'll die a happy man, then."

Her eyes meet his, catching and holding his gaze as she takes him inside her. She bites her lip, struggling to keep her eyes open. God, he feels amazing. So hard. And she's so slick and tight around him, the pleasure rides right on the edge of painful.

Hands on her hips, he urges her to move, his head flung back. "Ahhhh, Sophia," he groans, surging into her. "God, you feel so good...so hot..."

Rocking slowly, she finds a rhythm. One unhurried enough to make it last, but fast enough to satisfy. Her fingers flex against his chest and her eyes drift closed. Heat flows through her like lava, sinking between her legs.

"Dean," she whispers, her thighs tense around his hips.

Responding to something he hears in her voice, he sits up, his mouth crushing down over hers as his hands slide over her bottom. "Sophia." His voice is still rough, still smoky. It sends a flash of desire down her spine, arching her against him.

Tongues tangle. Kisses are only half completed and punctuated by harsh breath and shuddering moans. Hands grasp and knead. Stroke and tease.

Sophia tangles her hands in his short hair, her hips losing their rhythm as she approaches her climax. She pants his name, hears her own in return. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

"Now, baby, now," he gasps.

Her cry mingles with his as she tumbles over the edge, her body rippling, clenching around him as he finds his own orgasm.

Dean flops back against the pillows, pulling her with him. She sprawls over him, bonelessly, breathing hard. He strokes her back, long and slow, soothing her.

"Wow." He exhales softly.

"That's one word for it," she says with a giggle.

He rolls her under him, and kisses her senseless. "So," he says, cocky smirk firmly back in place, "feelin' lucky _now_, sweetheart?"

She laughs and snuggles into him, one leg slipping between his. "Luckiest woman in the world, babe. Luckiest woman in the world."


	22. Surrender

A\N: This one fits some time much earlier in Dean and Sophia's relationship than most of the more recent Passion Play items. This one is a little more intense, but it seems like it's something they would have had to confront at some point or another. I wrote this some time ago, but couldn't decide what to do with it. I shared it with my lovely beta and she loved it. She also suggested the title in her comments about loving to see a strong man surrender. :)

Special special thanks to said wonderful, beta **TLOGirl**, who has been nothing but supportive and a terrific cheerleader! She does a great job editing these things, even with her busy schedule and I appreciate her encouragement to pursue the random bits of stuff that pops into my head :) She's also a writer here, so please go check out her great stories!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything related to Supernatural.

Surrender

"Damn it, Dean," she hisses, "stop shutting me out!"

He huffs a bitter laugh. "Trust me, babe," he replies in a scathing voice, looking at her with blank eyes, "you really don't want to see what's in there."

She clenches her fists, barely resisting the urge to pummel him. "Please, spare me the self-pity and the self-loathing, it's not particularly becoming." Her voice drops, husky and soft, "And try to remember who you're talking to here. It's not like I just fell off the turnip truck last night."

She's barely finished the sentence before she finds herself pressed back against the wall, Dean's hard body holding her in place. He takes her chin in his hand and none too gently tilts her face up to his. His eyes meet hers and she's a little stunned at the darkness she sees there. She knows he's got an inordinately g rim past, but he's done a hell of a job at hiding the true depths of his pain from her so far.

"So," he grits harshly, "what do you want to hear about first then, Sophia? You want to hear about how twisted up I am inside? About how everything around me dies? About what a fuck-up I am when it comes to protecting the people I love?" He leans closer and she can feel his hot breath on her face. "I know," he says with another coarse laugh, "you definitely need to hear about what I did while I was in Hell. The souls I tortured. How much I _liked_ doing it. Now there's a nice bedtime story for you."

He releases of her chin and moves his hand to brace the wall next to her head. "Come on, Sophia," he taunts, that blank, dead look still in his eyes. Dead and yet somehow haunted and lost. It pulls at her. "Tell me which heartwarming story you'd like to hear first."

Sophia shifts against him, drawing his attention back to her face. Her eyes are calm and clear as she stares back at him. "All of it," she says, voice low but strong and sure. "Dean, I want to hear about all of it. Every ugly, nasty thing you've done or think you've done." She frees a hand and reaches up to touch his cheek, not caring when she feels him flinch. "I want to hear about _all _the things you've been hiding."

Feeling him shake his head and start to pull away, she shifts against him again, her body sinuous and tempting now. His eyes darken with desire, chasing away some of the chill . "Your body," she whispers, swallowing a moan as he leans into her, "is not the only part of you I want to know...intimately."

Dean captures her mouth in a blazing kiss, plundering it with an aggression and desperation she's never felt from him before. She gives as good as she gets, her tongue matching his, fighting for control. His hands are everywhere, rough and hungry; his mouth fierce and possessive, demanding everything.

Her breath is ragged when he finally breaks the kiss to place little nips along her jaw, devouring her. It feels as if he can just consume enough of her, it'll fill that aching hole inside him.

Her lips close to his ear, she murmurs, "Let me in..." His breathing hitches and he stops his assault on her body.

"Dean, please, I'm not afraid. Not afraid of you, not afraid of anything." He shudders against her and she presses on, her lips hovering over his ear. "I love you," she whispers and feels him stiffen. "I love you, and I need you to let me in..." She finishes on a breathless whisper, holding him tightly, "Please..."

His head drops to her shoulder and he sags against her. "No," he growls, "no, Sophia, I can't...I..."

She feels him shiver and slides her hands under his t-shirt, smoothing and warming his skin. "Yes," she whispers, kissing his bowed neck. "Yes, you can. Please, Dean." She tugs at him gently, trying to pull his face back to hers. "I see what it does to you, how it eats at you, the way you push it down, try to hide it away." Their eyes meet at last, his defeated, hers still certain. She strokes his face and says, "What you feel, this heat between us, the intensity, the pull, it's real, Dean. The way I feel about you, that's real."

Dean shakes his head, closing his eyes, afraid to take what she's offering him. "You don't understand," he rasps, "you can't. And if I tell you..." Still shaking his head, he opens his eyes, now bright with unshed tears and reflecting so much fear and pain it takes her breath away. "If I tell you, you won't...it's too much...you won't be able to look at me...you won't want to stay..."

But she's shaking her head now too, before he can even finish his thought. "No," she says fiercely. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." She takes his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. "I know this is hard for you hear and probably even more difficult for you to believe, but I love you, and I'm not leaving."

She kisses him softly, and says, "Look in my eyes, Dean, they'll tell you the truth. Look in my eyes and then tell me you don't believe me."

They stand that way for a long moment, the only sound in the room that of their ragged breathing. Sophia's eyes never waver from Dean's. She feels it, the moment he surrenders. His jaw tightens and he turns away from her. She doesn't try to pull him back; she knows he has to do this his own way.

His voice is low and rough when he finally begins to speak. The tone is flat and emotionless, but the words spill out like water over a dam. At first Sophia just listens, her heart breaking for him, but when the tears start, she can't stand back any longer. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing herself tight against his back. He tenses at first, but then relaxes and twines his fingers with hers.

Eventually, they shift to the bed, Dean on the edge, forearms braced on his knees and Sophia on the floor at his feet, their fingers still entwined. He talks for hours, words flowing constantly, if unevenly. Sophia doesn't comment, only offers silent support and encouragement.

It's nearing dawn when the words finally run out. They're both exhausted, physically and emotionally. She helps him undress and settles him under the covers. He's asleep by the time she can change into her sleepshirt and climb in next to him, but it doesn't stop him from pulling her into his arms. She curls against him and drifts off to sleep, wondering what the following day will bring.

~~~SPN~~~

It's afternoon when Sophia finally stirs awake. Dean watches her guardedly, head resting on his bent arm. Her gaze flutters over her face, a little unsure. She smiles uncertainly, licks her lips and says, "Hey..."

He blinks slowly, his expression not giving anything away. He's still not sure where this is going. "You're still here."

It's a statement, not a question, but she responds anyway. "Of course I am. I told you last night I wasn't going anywhere."

Dean shrugs carelessly, face still carefully blank. "So you said."

She cocks an eyebrow. "I could say the same about you," she says. "You're still here." She shifts to better see into his eyes. "I'm a little surprised actually."

Another shrug. "I was asleep." He keeps his voice guarded although he'd like nothing more to pull her into his arms and lose himself in her warmth. Sure, she said she wasn't going anywhere, but that was before. Before she heard what kind of man he really is. Before she'd had a chance to think about everything. Before.

She reaches out to touch his face, but he flinches away from her, so she settles for his bicep. "If you're waiting for me to come to my senses and run screaming from the room, it's not gonna happen."

Dean's eyes widen slightly, his breath hitching. He's apparently given away more than he thought.

She shakes her head, her struggle clear on her face. Her hand strokes down his arm to his hand where she tangles their fingers. "I heard it all. Every word," she whispers, her voice blurring with tightly controlled emotion. "I love you, Dean Winchester. I love you and I am _not _going anywhere."

Holding his gaze with her own, Sophia leans forward and brushes her lips against his. He's too stunned to pull away. She kisses him again, slowly, gently, demanding nothing, offering everything. He sighs, his lips parting beneath hers, unable to resist the temptation, and her tongue flicks out tentatively to trace his lower lip.

Sophia whispers her own sigh when his tongue ghosts against hers, but catches her breath as he pulls away. Her eyes flutter open, searching his.

"You..." he begins, his voice breaking. He swallows hard and tries again. The fact that she's still here is more than he dared hope for, but for her to say she loves him? "You still love me? You shouldn't..."

"Shhh," she says, resting a finger on his lips. "Don't, please. Nothing can change the way I feel about you, Dean. Telling me not to love you is like telling me not to breathe. It's just not happening." She huffs a laugh. "You're stuck with me, babe, sorry."

Dean's eyes search hers for another moment before he groans and his lips crash into hers. He untangles their fingers so he can pull her roughly against him. One hand wraps around her waist, pulling her close; the other tangles in her hair. He flips her beneath him, dragging his mouth away to rain heated kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, everywhere. Her arms slip around him, hands tracing over his back, and he shivers.

His hands roam over her, sliding down over her thighs and back up, finding the hem of her sleepshirt and pushing it up to gain better access to her warm, soft skin. She arches beneath him, his name on her lips, fingernails scraping down his spine. His mouth slips down over her jaw to her neck, finding her pulse beating rapidly as he flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin. She feels so damn good beneath him, he can hardly breathe, hardly think. But he knows he needs to tell her, needs to tell her before he shows her, needs to say the words, so she understands.

"Sophia," he rasps, reluctantly drawing his lips from her flesh, "look at me." Her eyes are glazed with desire when she opens them, her lips swollen from his kisses, her skin flushed pink and he nearly forgets what was so important. "I love you too," he breathes, pushing the hair back from her face, feeling her tremble beneath him.

So many emotions flash in her eyes so quickly, he can't tell them apart, but the last one makes them glow and she looks so beautiful it leaves him breathless. "Show me," she purrs. She rocks against him, drawing a soft moan from him. "Show me how I make you feel. Show me everything..."

Without another thought, Dean drags the sleepshirt up and off, tossing it to the floor. His mouth is scorching as it blazes over her skin, sending waves of pleasure through them both. She moans, tangling her fingers in his hair as he both sets and quenches fires all over her body. He slides down, murmuring her name, tongue leaving hot trails. Her panties are stripped off and the fire follows in their place as his mouth finds her center. She jerks beneath him, gasping for breath, but he holds her hips in place as his scalding tongue takes her up and over the edge, her strangled cry ringing in his ears.

"I love you so much," he breathes as he slides back up over her. "So much..." She wanted to know how she made him feel and this is it. Overwhelmed, consumed, on fire, breathless, out of control. She's writhing beneath him, totally lost in the pleasure. His mouth finds hers, tongues dancing, desperate and wild.

Unwilling to wait any longer, he buries himself inside her, wringing groans from both of them. It's as if their bodies were made for each other, everything fits perfectly. He pauses for a second to savor the feel of her body tight around him and then sets a blistering pace. He buries his face in her neck, sucking the skin, then soothing it with his tongue. He feels Sophia's teeth on his shoulder and nearly loses it. Her voice in his ear, panting his name, drives him on, and he pulls her with him. He feels her shudder beneath him and finally lets go, muffling his cries against her neck before collapsing against her.

After a long moment, he slips to the side, barely able to move. Wrapping her in his arms, he whispers, "_That_ is how you make me feel...," as he kisses the top of her head.

Sophia giggles breathlessly. "Good thing I asked you to show instead of tell...I'm pretty sure there aren't words for that..."

He chuckles, pulling her closer, unable to stop touching her, feeling her in his arms. "Thank you," he says quietly. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming into my life."

Sophia blinks back the tears forming in response to his words. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be," she answers, snuggling closer.


	23. Lollipop

A/N: Hey all! Please don't ask me where this idea for the lollipop came from, but it just stuck in my head for some reason. I had thought to make this one a quick and dirty, but it turned into something completely different. Anyway, please enjoy! :)

Thanks to **TLOGirl** for the beta read and excellent corrections as well as always encouraging me to write more. Always a pleasure to chat with you!

Thanks to **Annalay** for reading and reviewing pretty much everything I've written so far! I love reading your reviews and I'm so glad you're liking Dean and Sophia!

Also, special thanks to **dharmamonkey**. She's an excellent writer and has been a huge help to me when I find myself in tough spot. She's also an excellent in the smut department, so a rather endless source of inspiration. Feel free to attribute the length of this piece to my attempt at dharmasera style smut... ;) Thank you dearie!

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural or anything you recognize. For fun and not profit.

Lollipop

Dean Winchester is easily the most unhappy looking man in Sugar Daddy's tonight. All the other men are enjoying the women, enjoying their booze, having an all round good time. But Dean is clenching both his teeth and a half-empty glass of whiskey.

Sam looks over at him, snickering softly. "Dean, you need to at least pretend you're having a good time instead of sitting there with a snarl on your face. People are gonna get curious."

Flicking a glare at his brother, Dean goes back to watching the only woman here he has eyes for. The bitch of it is, all the other guys in the place only have eyes for her too. "This was a bad idea, Sam. There's too many people."

"You mean there's too many people looking at your girl," Sam replies, snickering again as Dean's face darkens dangerously. His gaze shifts to the woman in question and he watches her deftly squirm away from the grasping hands of yet another admirer. The incredibly short, pleated schoolgirl skirt and bursting at the buttons white shirt tied over her flat stomach is clearly working for this crowd. "Maybe you should have told her to skip the lollipop."

Dean growls, nearly breaking the glass in his hand as he tightens his grip. The lollipop had been Sophia's idea. To give her a way to get attention, to stand out, and it fit in with the sugary theme of the place. Now, as he watches her swirl her tongue around it, it seems like the worst idea in the world. Every man in a fifty mile radius is watching that tongue and they're _not _imagining it staying on that candy.

"She thought it would make her stand out, make her a better target for the demon," Dean grumbles. "But hell, every even remotely warm-blooded dude in the whole fucking place is all over her. We'll never be able to figure out which one is the demon."

"You should probably leave that to her. Besides it looks like she can take care of herself."

Dean frowns as another eager customer tucks a folded bill into the top of her stocking as she serves a round of drinks. The little wiggle she puts in her hips as she moves back to the bar nearly has the poor guy falling out of his chair. Sam's laugh just makes it worse.

"You shouldn't even be looking at that, little brother," he snarls, "if you want to keep your eyes in your damn head."

Sam snorts, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just watching the show, dude. She's got these idiots eating out of the palm of her hand. She deserves a round of applause."

Sophia serves another few rounds before making her way to their table. "Can I get you boys another round?" she asks, twirling the lollipop in her mouth as she winks at Sam.

"Nah, I'm good," Sam says, with a grin. "But I think my friend here could use a refill."

Her attention turns to Dean and she gives him a wicked smile. "Oh, yeah, I think your friend could definitely use _something_." She draws out the last word before sucking on her candy. She moves to stand between his legs, leaning against his thigh. "He doesn't look like he's having a very good time," she says, giving a little pout and waving the lollipop in his face. "What's the matter, sugar?"

For a moment, Dean looks like all the other "idiots" in the place. Completely struck dumb by the woman rubbing her leg against his thigh. His jeans are suddenly way too tight and he can't seem to remember how to breathe. He watches as she reaches out one long red lacquered fingernail to trace down his cheek and he can't suppress a shudder.

"Uhhhhhh..."

She giggles, and reaches for his glass. "I'm gonna take that as a request for more booze," she says. "Maybe it'll loosen you up a little."

She turns and walks away, the height of her heels giving her ass an almost mesmerizing sway. Dean swallows hard, barely hearing his brother's laughter over the sound of blood rushing from his head.

"Son of bitch."

Sam is practically falling out his chair in his amusement. "Uhhhhhh? That was the best you could do?" He takes a sip of his beer, leaning back in the chair. "Guess you're not all that different than the rest of this bunch are you?"

Dean, now reduced to grunts and snaps, ignores him and finishes the whiskey in front him. Further talk is subdued when a guy in a seriously snazzy suit sits down behind them. No talk of demons or girlfriends in front of civilians.

Sophia returns to the table a few minutes later, flashing them her sexiest smile. She does a little Bunny dip next to the table as she sets Dean's drink down, giving him a excellent view of the lacy red bra she's wearing beneath the sheer white button down shirt. "Feeling any better, sugar?" she drawls, swaying toward him.

"Ummm, yeah," he mumbles, "I'm good." He wants to drag her down in his lap and ravage that sassy mouth of hers, but that's only going to get him thrown out of here. Instead, he just raises his eyes to hers, letting them do the talking.

When their eyes meet, Sophia sucks in a sharp breath and bites her lip before runs her finger along his jaw. "Yeah, I think you're just fine," she purrs.

"Hey, baby, why don't you skip that loser and come on back here. I'll show you a good time."

The three turn their attention to Snazzy Suit at the table behind them. He throws Sophia a toothy grin, snapping his cuffs to reveal an expensive Rolex and a gold bracelet to go with the upscale outfit.

Sophia and the Winchesters exchange a quick look. This might be the demon they've been hunting. He's been taking strippers from this bar and the bar maids from various others for over a week. Sophia puts on her sexiest smirk and heads to his table. "Well, honey, why don't you show me what you've got then?"

After several drinks and enough groping to have Dean itching for a fight, the demon stands up and waves for the manager. When the man comes by the table, a wad of bills is pressed into his hand, along with a request for a "more private location."

As he and Sophia move off toward the back of the house, she catches Dean's eye and nods slightly. Both brothers nod back. If this is the right guy, all she has to do is to press send on the text to Dean already set on her phone and he and Sam will come in and dispatch the demon's sorry ass.

Dean squirms in the chair, anxious at having Sophia out of his sight. His phone sits on the table in front of him and he keeps his eyes glued to it, waiting anxiously for her text.

Sam is just as anxious, but he tries to calm Dean. "Dude, settle down," he murmurs. "People are starting to stare."

"I don't care, damn it. She's in there alone with him and..." Dean's reply is cut off as the phone chirps at the same moment they hear a crash in the "private" room.

As they reach the door, they hear the demon taunting Sophia inside. "What are you doing, bitch?" he screams. "Calling for help? There's no one to save you. You belong to me."

Dean kicks the door in, the demon-killing knife clutched in his hand. "Well, I'm pretty sure you're wrong about that, you bastard," he growls as he strides toward the creature. He puts his worry for Sophia aside for just a moment, knowing Sam will protect her while he deals with the monster.

"You..." the thing gasps, backing away.

"Yeah, me. Now make sure you tell everyone I said hi when your sorry ass gets back to Hell." Without hesitation, Dean shoves the knife in the gut of the possessed man, not stepping away until the unholy light disappears and the body collapses to the floor.

He turns to see Sam helping Sophia to her feet on the other side of the room and he moves quickly to her side. "You okay, babe?" he asks, concern clear in his voice. His eyes scan her, looking for any injury.

Sophia leans against him, still holding Sam's hand. "I feel like my head just exploded. When he realized I had the phone, he backhanded me across the face." She rubs her cheekbone gently, wincing. "But I don't think anything's broken."

Dean tilts her chin up to him, examining her cheek, already reddening. He glances at Sam, who nods in answer. "Alright, let's get you outta here and we'll get some ice on that."

~~~SPN~~~

"Owwww," Sophia hisses as Dean places the washcloth full of ice on her cheek. She leans back against the bed's headboard and grimaces. "I'm gonna have a nasty bruise tomorrow."

Dean nods, taking her free hand and tangling their fingers. "Lucky that's all you're gonna have."

She rolls her eyes. "Dean, really, it's fine. You were right there and I could have kicked his ass if necessary."

Dean huffs a sigh, squeezing her fingers. "I don't know what was worse, watching all those men ogling you or seeing you disappear into that room with a damn demon."

Giggling, then wincing, Sophia says, "I told you that lollipop would work."

"Worked a little too well if you ask me. Jesus, there wasn't a guy in the whole joint who wasn't imagining what else you could do with that tongue."

"Mmmm, were you one of those guys?"

He raises her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm, then the inside of her wrist. "Baby, I _know_ what you can do with that tongue...," he says with a smirk. His tongue flicks against the sensitive skin on her wrist and she sighs softly. "Between that damn lollipop and that naughty schoolgirl outfit, you were freakin' catnip to that bunch."

She tosses the ice on the nightstand and sits up, leaning toward him slightly. "Can we please stop talking about those animals?" she says, batting her eyes at him. "Because I'm really only interested in what _you_ were thinking."

Raising his hand to the uninjured side of her face, fingers gentle on her cheek, he coaxes her closer. "I thought you looked sexy as hell," he murmurs, voice going dark and husky. "When you brought me that drink, all I could think of was pulling you down into my lap and kissing you senseless."

Untangling their fingers, she wraps her hand around his neck. Holding her mouth just a hair's breadth from his, she whispers, "So what's stopping you now?"

He slips his hand around her head, tangling his fingers in her hair, angling her just so. "Nothing I can think of," he replies before capturing her mouth with his own.

Their mouths move together, slow and easy, before their tongues join the game. Sophia hums her satisfaction as her tongue slips by his and she tastes the warm, whiskey flavored heat of his mouth. She shifts closer, scooching up her already too short skirt past her hips as she does.

Dean's free hand drops to her thigh, teasing gently at the skin above her stockings as he continues his own slow exploration of her mouth. Breaking the kiss and sucking in a deep breath, he brushes his lips gently over hers. "Are you sure you're okay? I don't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, baby," she breathes. "I love the way you make me feel."

He groans softly and pushes her back into the pillows, his mouth finding hers again as he sinks into her. He takes his time tasting her again, rolling his tongue over hers, finding every inch of her mouth. His hands cradle her head gently, holding her as if she's something fragile and precious. He had been so turned on by her at the club, he'd almost blown their cover. But now, seeing her hurt, having heard her cry of pain, touching her has a whole other meaning. A whole other purpose.

Moving away from her lips, Dean feathers kisses along her now bruising cheek. His hands slide down along the sides of her breasts, her waist, her hips then back up. His mouth presses tiny kisses along her jaw and down to her neck, sucking lightly on the skin.

Sophia shifts restlessly beneath him, her hands busy as well. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she slips her hands under his t-shirt, fingers dancing along the skin of his back. The feel of his hot mouth sucking at her neck makes her want. Makes her want to both hurry him forward and slow him down. Makes her want so much more and to make it last forever.

Dean rolls off to the side, chuckling a little as she shivers. He keeps his face buried in her neck as his fingers make quick work of the few buttons on her shirt. After he unties the knot, he pushes the shirt away, exposing her pale skin, highlighted by her lacy red bra.

Leaning away, he traces his finger from her chin, down her neck and across her collarbone. He then drifts them down between her breasts to her stomach, watching as her skin shivers under his touch and her breathing quickens. "So beautiful," he murmurs, palming her belly as his gaze catches hers.

Sophia sits up and shrugs off the shirt, tossing it to the floor, her eyes locked with his. They're dark and beautiful and she almost forgets what she's doing. She reaches for him, pulling him up so she can get him out of his shirt before pushing him back onto the bed and draping herself over him. She reaches to stroke his full lower lip with the pad of her thumb. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of kissing you," she says, leaning down to trace the same path with her tongue.

"Back atcha," he mutters, sucking her bottom lip in his mouth. His hands drift down her back to her hips, then over her bottom, snugging her to him. He tips his head back as she drops little nipping kisses on his neck, moaning softly. She feels so good melted over him and he can't stop his hands from drifting under the skirt, then under the edge of her panties. He feels her purr against his chest as she slides down over him, forcing his hands up over her back.

After kissing her way across his chest, Sophia pays a little extra attention to his nipples. Tongue flicking, teeth scraping, she smiles just a little as she hears his groan of pleasure. "You taste good," she says as she moves to the other side, tongue laving the other nipple.

"Hmmmnggg..." is his only reply.

She giggles softly and sits up, straddling him. Rocking ever so gently over the hardness she can feel under his jeans, she sighs and reaches for the hook on her bra.

Dean's hands move to her hips, stilling her motion. "Jesus, babe, you gotta stop that," he growls. "You're gonna kill me."

She arches her back, releasing the hooks, but not pulling the bra away just yet. Her eyes meet his, teasing. She rolls her hips again, letting the straps slide down her shoulders. "Just keepin' you interested, sweetheart," she purrs, arms folded under her breasts.

He snorts, trying to catch his breath. "Just remember turnabout is fair play." He grabs the bra and pulls it away, tossing it off the bed. For just a moment, he simply looks at her. Her hair is mussed, wild and in her face. Her lips are swollen and pink and her eyes sparkle as she looks down at him. His gaze travels down over her chest to her breasts, and he reaches to cup one globe in his hand.

Sophia's eyes dip closed and she bites at her bottom lip. She can't think of anything but the feel of his hand on her skin. His thumb strumming across her nipple. His other hand stroking under her other breast. So good. "Dean..."

He rolls her underneath him, the desire in her voice going straight to his groin. He wants his mouth on her instead of his hands. Wants to taste her. Wants to wind her up so much higher. His lips trace a quick path down her chest, then kisses around her breast. Teasing. Now wanting to make her beg. Wanting to make her crave this as much as he does.

Flicking his tongue around her nipple, he hears her breath catch. So he abandons it and goes back to kissing the soft skin just under it. She squirms beneath him, moaning softly. He moves away, tongue slicking along her ribs.

"Damn it, Dean," she groans, tugging at his hair.

"You want something, baby?" He shifts back up, blowing lightly across one nipple.

"Ahhhh," she whimpers, "please...Dean..." She needs so much more than this torment.

One more teasing flick and he sucks the pebbled flesh into his mouth, drawing strongly. She arches into him, moaning in satisfaction. His hands slide under her, along her back, holding her to him as he suckles and nips at the sensitive flesh. He loves the sounds she makes when they're together. Little panting gasps and soft moans. The way she purrs his name. He'd give anything he had to keep hearing those noises.

Dean releases her breasts and drags his tongue down over her belly, circling briefly in her navel before reaching the waist of her little skirt. Deeming it too much trouble to remove, he simply pushes further up and drags her panties off. He leaves the stockings on, as well, but unhooks them from the garter. "Do you know how fucking hot it is to feel these stockings against my skin when I'm between your legs?" he mutters, stripping away her panties.

No coherent reply is forthcoming. Sophia can barely think of her own name, much less string together a full sentence. She's burning. Simply on fire. And his mouth, his tongue, his hands are both the cause and the cure. The way he hums against her skin. The way he whispers her name against the soft skin of her inner thigh. The way his fingers push her to the edge and beyond.

She's still panting from her release when she feels him roll away. But he's back seconds later, naked and settling between her thighs. His heavy weight pressing her into the mattress grounds her. At the same time, the hard length nudging at her core makes her moan and lift her hips. That first orgasm was mind-blowing, for sure, but nothing satisfies her like the feel of him inside her.

Dean slides into her with a long groan. So tight and hot, like molten silk, surrounding him and drawing him in. "Jesus," he mumbles, snagging her mouth in a half-kiss, "you feel so fucking good."

"God, yes," she breathes, arching to meet him. "More..."

He tries to keep his pace measured, but the call of her body is nearly his undoing. Then there's the feel of those silky stockings on his back as she wraps her legs around him. Still kissing her, he slides his hands down her arms, tangling his fingers with hers and pushing them over her head. The motion presses her body up into his, sleek and smooth against him.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches her face. As much as he loves her sounds, he also loves to see her. As if she realizes he's looking, she opens her eyes too and their gazes catch. The emotion he reads there is almost too much. Love and lust. Tenderness and passion. All of it swirls in the nearly black depths. Sometimes he thinks he doesn't deserve the way she loves him, so fierce and powerful.

Rocking, rocking. Give and take. The air thickens between them, the tension stretching razor thin. Breathing quickens. Only whispered words and soft moans break the stillness of the room. The sound of skin gliding over skin.

And then she's shattering beneath him, crying out his name as she does, body bow taut. She falls back, shuddering, feeling him thrust against her one more time before he groans his release and collapses on top of her.

After a few moments of unsteady breathing, Dean rolls off her onto his side, pulling her into his arms. He winces slightly when he catches a glimpse of the purple bruise on her cheek. Stroking his fingers over it gently, he says, "You okay, sweetheart?"

Sophia smiles up at him, a slow, sleepy, satisfied smile that curls his toes. "Oh, yeah, I'm way beyond okay."

He gives her a cocky grin and a kiss before helping her out of the stockings and the little skirt. Once they're both naked, he shifts to get the sheets and blanket pulled up over them. Making sure she's tucked in, he curls her back in his arms, smiling as she nuzzles her face against his shoulder with a sigh. "By the way," he murmurs, kissing the top of her head, "no more lollipops in public for you."

He drifts off to sleep, her soft giggle the last thing he hears.


	24. Fantasy

A/N: My apologies for the long delay in updates! Work has been kicking my butt lately, unfortunately. Anyway, writing this in first person was interesting, to say the least, but for some reason, I just felt it had to be done that way. Oh, and this fantasy is totally Sophia's...not anything I ever thought of... ;)

Thanks to **TLOGirl** for the beta read! Her suggestions always make these things better!

Thanks also to **dharmamonkey** for her continued support and inspiration. In this case, the inspiration came from a story she wrote for Bones called "Dirty," appropriately enough. Dirty, sweaty men working on cars is apparently a universal fantasy... YUM!

Fantasy

I nudge the screen door open with my hip, glass of iced tea in one hand, cold bottle of beer in the other. I make my way to the garage door, pausing for a moment to enjoy the view.

Dean is bent under the hood of the Impala, tuning her up before we go out on the road again. I start at his feet and work my way up. Strong legs lead to a seriously tight ass and narrow waist. I can see the muscles moving in his back, rotating those oh-so-broad shoulders. And then his arms.

"Hey, babe," I say casually, trying not to give away the hormones suddenly surging through my body. "You want a beer?"

He straightens and turns toward me and the surge of hormones becomes a flood. The sweat-dampened t-shirt clings to his well-muscled stomach and weakens my knees. He rubs his arm across his forehead, smudging some kind of grime across his face. He's filthy and sweaty and Christ, he's making me wet.

"Yeah, thanks. It's damned hot out here this afternoon." He grins at me as he takes the beer, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

I struggle for a second to find some kind of appropriate response. I'm not helped in that endeavor when he twists the cap off the beer and wraps his lips around the top to take a swallow. I get a sudden flash of those same full lips wrapping around my nipple and have to suppress a gasp. I swallow hard and quickly take a sip of my tea to cover, but almost choke on it instead.

Dean takes another sip of the beer and raises an eyebrow at me. "You okay?"

"Sure," I reply, my voice huskier than normal, forcing me to clear my throat. "Ummm, so, you almost done out here?"

He nods, turning back to the car and setting the beer down on the work table. "Pretty much. Just gotta put this back together."

I move further into the garage and lean against the table. "Great." I'm paying more attention to the trickle of sweat trailing down his neck and under the collar of his shirt than what we're talking about. Which is why he's again looking at me strangely. I missed something.

"Sophia?"

"Hmmm?" I drag my eyes from his abs back up to his face.

"I asked you what you had planned for this afternoon." He's smirking at me now and I get the idea that perhaps he's onto me. I'm probably putting out enough pheromones to attract every man in a half mile radius. Thankfully, there's no one for miles. No one to witness my lustful meltdown in our garage.

I scramble for a reply, fidgeting with the hem on my suddenly too warm t-shirt. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was thinking of something else."

Snickering, Dean shuts the hood and pulls a bandanna out of his back pocket to wipe his hands. He snags the beer again and settles his butt on the edge of the hood. His gaze drifts over me and I'm suddenly convinced he can tell how wet my panties are.

"So?"

I look at him blankly. "So what?"

This time he outright laughs. "You were gonna tell me what you wanted to do this afternoon," he says patiently. His tone suggests he's talking to a young, not particularly bright, child. Or maybe a lust addled woman. Whatever.

But, seriously, what does he expect? Running around all hot and dirty and delicious looking like that? What's a warm-blooded woman supposed to do?

I give up trying for cool and set my glass on the table. I step between his legs, running my hands over his warm, denim clad thighs while his hands drop to my hips. "This afternoon?" I say, looking up at him through my lashes. "Only thing I had in mind was getting naked with you as soon as possible."

"Is that so?" he replies, his eyes going a deeper shade of emerald.

"I mean, if you don't have something else to do. I'd hate to keep you from something more interesting." I don't really mean any of that, but I also know Dean is the last person on this planet to turn down sex. The word "no" just isn't part of his vocabulary in that regard. Especially not when I get around to telling him the fantasy I've been nursing.

"Well, I should probably mow the yard before we go..." he mumbles, his eyes dropping to my mouth and his hands sliding around to cup my bottom.

I lick my lips and hear his breath catch a little as he watches. Putting on a little bit of a pout, I say, "Oh, well, that's too bad. I had this little fantasy I was hoping you could help me with, but if you're too busy..." I let the words trail off as I start to pull away. I'm totally not above a little teasing and all this talk is just giving me more time to drool over him.

I don't get far before he's pulling me in closer, my hips fitting right against his as he slides his hands down over my bottom then back up under the hem of my cutoffs. I resist the urge to rub against him, afraid that if I do, I might just lose my mind before I get what I want.

"A fantasy?" he asks, the register of his voice ticking up just a notch. "What kind of fantasy?"

His fingers start tracing random little circles on the skin at the top of my thighs and I purr just a little. Then I remember there was a question in there somewhere. I wrap my hands around his neck, twirling my fingers in the little bits of hair on the back of it. This is the hard part. While I certainly enjoy sex, and God knows I enjoy a lot of it with Dean, I've never actually shared any fantasies with him. To be honest, I've never shared a sexual fantasy with anyone. And this particular one makes me blush.

"Well, ummm," I mumble, stalling just a little. I brush a little kiss across those fabulous lips, looking for a bit of courage.

He grins under my kiss. "C'mon, baby, you can tell me." He shifts his hands, moving them up my back, then trailing them back down in an almost soothing gesture. "Don't leave me hanging here."

I don't look at him, keeping my attention focused on his mouth. I can feel the hint of a blush creeping up my neck, but the ache between my legs overrides my twinge of shyness. "So, I've had this image in my head...of me on the hood of the car...naked..." I swallow hard, fiddling with the collar of his t-shirt. "And your head between my legs." The last is said in sort of a breathy rush caused equally by my nerves and the fact that the picture has popped into my head again.

Dean sucks in a sharp breath and I feel his fingers tighten reflexively on my back. He releases the breath slowly and I can feel the tension rise around us. "Jesus Christ," he whispers huskily. He cups my jaw, tilting my face to his and trying to catch my gaze. I look at him, semi-reluctantly, only to damn near lose my breath at the expression on his face. "That's gotta be the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard."

He stares at me for another second, then tangles his fingers in my ponytail and pulls me in for a searing kiss. My lips part for him without a second thought and his tongue takes immediate advantage. His arm slips around my waist, snugging me in close as he explores my mouth with heated intensity.

Now that the tough part is out of the way, I can focus on how freaking turned on I am and how I can get to being stripped bare and on the hood of this car as soon as possible. My hand get busy burrowing underneath his damp shirt and finding their way over those abs I was watching earlier. His skin is feverishly warm under my palms and I moan softly.

His hands are just as busy as mine and in a flash we're breaking the kiss to allow him to drag my shirt over my head. Since we're home alone, I'm not wearing a bra and I immediately feel him cup my breast. His hand is warm and rough against the soft skin and I arch into his hand with a whimper. I try to tug his mouth back to mine, but he resists, burying his face in my neck before kissing his way further down.

Another rough groan escapes as I watch his mouth close around my nipple, just like I imagined earlier. But my God, the real thing is so much better. My eyes drift closed as I focus on the feel of his hot, wet mouth on my skin. I shiver, my breath catching as I feel him move to tease the other breast, twirling the nipple between his fingers. That persistent ache I've had between my legs since I first walked out into the garage intensifies with each suck he makes at my over-sensitive flesh.

Needing to catch my breath from all the overwhelming sensation, I push him away and grab for his shirt, yanking it off. He grins at me, dragging me back into him, hissing slightly as our now bare skin touches. I reach for that teasing mouth with mine as I rake my fingers down his chest. Our lips meet, tongues slicking past each other, hungry and wild.

Leaning back, Dean trails his fingers down between my breasts and across my stomach, making the skin shiver. Stopping at the snap on my cutoffs, he looks up at me, voice dark and completely sinful. "What do you say we skip ahead to the naked part?" The snap is undone and I hear the zipper snicking down. "Because I can't get that picture of you out of my head and I want to see it in person."

I'm finding it hard to keep myself upright, so being on my back on the warm, smooth hood of the Impala sounds like an excellent idea. I can only stand and watch as he slides the denim over my hips, taking my panties along for the ride. When he lets them fall to the floor, I step out of them and kick them to the side.

Watching him look at me is almost as much of a turn on as the way he touches me. His eyes are completely black now and everywhere his gaze touches is another fire. His fingers follow his gaze, but slower. Almost reverent. Tracing the skin wherever his survey of my bare body stops. I start to feel lightheaded from desire, but I don't break the spell he's casting.

Licking his lips, Dean finally stands, motioning at the car. I take the cue, settling down on the hood, then carefully scooting back. I lean back on my elbows first, then lie all the way down. Conscious of his attention, I arch my back slightly and let my thighs fall open. I can imagine what I look like, my skin pale against the dark of the car. Completely exposed and completely vulnerable.

The expression on his face sends more heat flooding through me. His jaw comes slightly unhinged as his wide eyes sweep over me. His tongue flicks out over his lower lip and I purr softly, squirming a little. He's driving me crazy with all this teasing. "Dean..." I whimper.

He steps forward, knees against the bumper. He traces both hands down over my breasts, my ribs, my waist and along my thighs. The roughness of his palms adds another layer of feeling and I moan, arching toward him. "Want...please..." I'm way past coherent sentences at this point. Just breathy words and mumbling.

My eyes slam shut as I feel his mouth on the silky skin of my inner thigh. Then I remember I wanted to see him. To see him between my legs. I let my eyes flutter open, only to swallow a moan as I look at him. His spiky, dirty blonde hair contrasts clearly against my pale flesh. His beautiful eyes are closed as his mouth moves over me, lips parted, tongue flickering through. It's everything I'd fantasized about and more and I suck in a harsh breath.

As he moves closer to the center of my desire, my fingers slip on the metal of the hood, curling into fists when they don't find purchase. I rock my hips, not wanting to wait anymore to feel his tongue on me. I shudder as he teases his way up before finally reaching my core.

The first slick of his tongue almost sends me into orbit and I gasp, simultaneously arching and shivering. My heels slip on the smooth metal of the hood, as I either try to get away from the nearly all-consuming sensations or try to lift my hips closer to that hot tongue. I'm lost now. Completely lost as I writhe under him, whimpering and panting.

I feel his hands tighten on my thighs, holding me in place as he torments me relentlessly. His tongue seems to be everywhere, flicking, teasing, then making slow swirls, then fluttering quickly. I'm melting. I'm on fire. I feel my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my body as the pleasure builds. There's a wave that starts at the top of my head and another starting at the tips of my toes and they're rushing together to meet at the tip of Dean's tongue.

He winds me up, over and over, but doesn't allow me the release I'm craving. I whine his name, I struggle beneath him, I try to work into some kind of rhythm, but I'm not the one in control here. I am most decidedly not in control here. And I don't even care. I just want.

"Please," I moan, my hands reaching for his head, tugging at the short hair. "Dean, God, please..."

He doesn't stop what he's doing, but I feel him growl against me and I shudder again. One hand releases my thigh and then two fingers are sliding inside me, making a little beckoning motion. The sounds I make would be embarrassing had I been in any position to care. Those waves that have been building inside me start to crest and I would have screamed his name as I came, but my voice is nearly gone.

I collapse onto the hood, totally spent, boneless. I drag in breath after breath, trying to get enough air. At the same time, I'm convinced my heart is going to break it's way right out of my chest. As I get my brain functioning again, I force my eyes open to look down at the man who's currently kissing his way up my body.

Dean's hands curl around my waist, pulling me down toward him. My skin, slick with sweat, glides easily over the waxed surface of the car. His mouth is soft and gentle on my feverish body, at once soothing and stirring. As he makes his way up the valley between my breasts, he looks up at me and grins, eyes flashing.

"That was a hell of a fantasy, babe," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me. There's another smirk. "Was it good for you?"

I snort, but there's no hiding the gleam I know is shining in my eyes or the flush of my cheeks. "It was alright," I demur, giggling as he smacks my thigh. "Okay, okay, fine, it was fucking spectacular. I just hate to stroke your ego any more than is necessary."

His grin widens and he licks his lips, making me shiver a little. "My ego isn't what needs stroking right now, sweetheart."

And just in case I didn't catch his obvious innuendo, he rolls his hips against mine, letting me feel the hardness under his jeans. I may or may not have purred and rolled back against him, making him moan. "We should probably do something about that," I mutter, pulling him back down for another kiss. "Like, right now."

I wrap my legs around him, enjoying the feel of his jeans against my skin. But what I really want is more skin, so I push him away. "You know, that getting naked thing I was talking about earlier applied to you too."

After a nip at my neck, he stands and I get the supreme pleasure of watching him undress. He's already shirtless, so I'm momentarily distracted by the rippling of the muscles on his chest as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. When he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and starts to pull them off, my eyes are immediately drawn further down. Much further down.

I swallow a little moan as both the jeans and his boxer briefs slide down over his hips and reveal his erection. I lick my lips unconsciously and I hear him growl softly. Not inclined to stop my ogling, I keep my gaze on his body, watching the muscles in his thighs flex as he bends to remove the clothes. As he straightens after tossing everything to the side, my leer traces it's way slowly back up the way it came, lingering on his hardness, then his abs, before finally reaching his face.

When our eyes finally meet, I swallow hard, but can't stop the shudder that overtakes me. The hunger in his gaze as he watches me makes me hot all over again. Makes me want more. So much more. Unable to find words, I hold out my hand, fingers trembling slightly. Dean tangles our fingers together, his thumb rubbing over the back of mine. I tug at him, drawing him down. "C'mere," I whisper, suddenly desperate to feel him against me.

He doesn't hesitate, just shifts me further down the car and settles between my legs. His eyes are dark with need and I find myself breathless under his warm weight and the desire building between us. "I want you," he murmurs. "I want you so much."

"Yes." I don't want to wait any longer. The melting heat, the almost painful ache in my core I thought was satisfied a few minutes before has returned with a vengeance. I want to feel him inside me. I want to feel him under my hands. I want to feel him all around me. I raise my hips. "Now."

Dean pulls our still tangled fingers to his mouth and kisses them softly before releasing them and reaching to lift me. Our eyes meet and our gazes hold as he slides inside me, completing us. I hiss at the sensation, arching, then wrapping my legs around his waist. He starts to move, slowly drawing nearly all the way out before just as slowly pressing back again.

The moan that escapes me is long and low. "Oh, God, so good." I roll my hips as he rocks into me, pulling him deeper, sighing with pleasure.

The slow pace doesn't last long. We're both too far gone to take any more time. Every stroke brings us closer to the edge, building the sweet heat between us. Through heavy lidded eyes, I watch him, nearly drowning in the pleasure.

As I slide ever closer to oblivion, I find I don't want to be separated from him any longer. I need to feel his arms around me. Feel his lips on mine. I reach for his arm and pull myself into a seated position, sucking in a sharp breath as the change in position sends him deeper.

His arms immediately move around me, supporting me, pressing me closer. I slide my hands around his neck, pulling him to me. Our mouths meet and break apart, then meet again as our tongues slip against each other. My fingers glide through his hair as I arch toward him. I break the kiss, panting, and bury my face in his shoulder. His muscles are tense with the strain and I can hear it in his breathing.

He shifts slightly and finds the sweet spot that sends me spiraling over the edge. I arch again, his arms strong around me as I shatter. The contracting of my body around him seems to be what he was waiting for, and it's only a few seconds before I feel him tense with a low groan as he finds his release.

I have no idea how he keeps his feet because I'm damn sure I couldn't stand after that. I kiss his shoulder, then the tattoo on his chest. My hand rests over his heart and I can feel it pounding. He kisses the top of my head, his embrace pulling me even closer.

After a few moments, he shifts me off the car and onto my feet. My knees feel like jelly for a second, but I manage to keep upright. He tilts my face up to his and plants small kisses on my forehead, the tip of my nose, and finally my lips. "Damn, girl."

I giggle, sliding my hands over his chest. "Mmmm, you weren't so bad yourself, big guy."

His gaze slides down over my body and then shifts to the car. "I am in so much trouble."

I raise an eyebrow, question clear in my eyes.

The trademark Dean Winchester smirk quirks on his lips. "'Cause I'm not going to be able to look at that damn car anymore without getting a hard on."

* * *

><p>Soooooo, what did you think? Hot stuff? Or have I lost my mind? Please, please click the little button there and tell me what you thought! Reviews are crack for authors you know...support my habit! :)<p> 


End file.
